


Selkie

by WhoInWhoville



Series: I love AUs [7]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Seduction, Domestic Violence, F/M, Legends, Light Angst, Seduction, Selkie - Freeform, UST, celtec legend, celtic folklore, folk lore, mostly innocent nakedness, non-graphic recollection of domestic violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 10:50:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6851671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoInWhoville/pseuds/WhoInWhoville
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He sheds his seal skin and takes on human form. He is beautiful. And irresistable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Tennantmeister, Kelkat9, and bittie752 for the prodding back when this was originally posted in spring of 2014. 
> 
> There many variations on the stories of selkie-folk, though most come from north of Scotland. I took my inspiration from the Orkney Islands version. If you wish to learn more about selkies, [ I used this website for research.](http://www.orkneyjar.com/folklore/selkiefolk/index.html)
> 
> There are both male and female selkies -- seal-folk who shed their skin and take on human form. Female selkies are highly sought after to be wives, and are often happily married, permanently taking on human form, "surrending" their skin.  
> Male selkies, on the other hand, like to keep their options open {wink wink}. They rarely surrender their skin. Instead, they hide their skins so that they can return to the sea at will. They are ridiculously seductive, beautiful to behold, and have the power of song. They particularly like to seduce wives and girlfriends -- in other words, women who are unavailable.

 

It had taken a month, but Rose Tyler had finally emerged from what she now referred to as the lost year. Looking back, it now seemed like a painful haze, although that pain was quickly fading.

In the distance, she heard the ferry tooting its horn, a happy reminder that Jimmy Stone had sailed out of her life one month ago. For good this time, she promised herself. “Thanks for nothing. You knob,” she muttered, as was now her habit each time the ferry horn sounded. She no longer fought against hot tears. She had shed too many tears for Jimmy, for lost dreams, and for lost time. _I wasted so much time on that wanker!_ she thought to herself.

Now, she was devoted to making up for that lost time. Rose was again on speaking terms with her mum, and was saving money to get back home to London — for a visit. She liked it here, for now at least. It was quiet and simple and she didn't have to be anyone but herself. Big cosy sweaters instead of the sheer, tight tops that Jimmy had demanded; trainers instead of teetering heels; blonde hair pulled into a messy bun; she'd even stopped wearing her contact lenses in favour of black horn-rimmed glasses; this was her life now. And she was smiling again.

It hadn't taken her but a day after the band had left for Rose to find a job. She now worked at an inn as the front desk clerk, and the job came with a cheerful bedsit, which was both a plus and a minus. Living at your job, she discovered quickly, meant being available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. And while she enjoyed greeting guests, handing them pamphlets about nearby historic sites and pointing them in the direction of the best Indian takeaway or morning coffee shop, she also needed to a place to hide. She had found a secluded spot out of town a ways, in cove next to a rocky cliff.

She sat on the sand with her back against a piece of driftwood. Out to sea, she could just make out a furry brown head with shining dark eyes bobbing in the water. She watched her new animal friend for what seem like hours. He was different from the other seals who frequented the beach, although she couldn't put a finger on what that difference was. He — she assumed it was a he — he bobbed in the same spot, right near the cliff. Once he appeared, he never went back under, never dove for fish, never went up onto the rocks with the other seals. He seemed content to simply ride the tide and watch her with those big, brown eyes.

"You're lucky," she shouted above the wind. "You're lucky, Mr. Seal. Eating clams or fish or whatever it is you eat, and just swimming. Not having to worry about anything — or anyone.” Her voice trailed off. "I'm going mad. I'm talking to a seal."

The seal barked.

Rose smiled. And then she waved. The furry brown head bobbed above the water for another moment, and then disappeared into the cold, grey, Orcadian waters.

oOo

_One Month Before_

He sat at the bar. The band that was playing was not so bad as pub bands go, but neither were they rock gods. But it wasn't like Kirkwall, the capital of Orkney, was London. No one expected greatness. During the first set, they had played a mix of crowd-pleasing covers and a few original songs as well; however, the original work had seemed to be too moody and dark for the crowd.

Cracking a wry smile, he just shook his head as the lead singer-slash-guitarist poorly executed a split jump on the final note of _Viva la Vida_. The crowd, however, seemed to be enjoying themselves regardless of his lack of finesse, and they hollered and cheered the frontman's antics.

"What sort of a musician tries to do a David Lee Roth jump at the end of a Coldplay song?" a sultry voice whispered into his ear.

He smiled and slowly turned the stool so they were face to face. He glanced at her red-stained lips, then licked his own, and made a show of biting his tongue before he looked back at her eyes.

"Apparently this fellow," he said. His smooth Scottish brogue wrapped around the words.

She smiled and caressed his thigh. "I can do the splits," she purred. As she slid off of the stool the slit of her short dress exposed thigh-high stockings and toned legs. She snaked her arms up and around his neck, and settled herself between the spread of his legs.

"Can you now?" His words came from a place deep in his throat, thick and hypnotic. He paused for a moment, and then placed his full lips close to her ear. "So. Tell me about your boyfriend. Husband. Significant other — situation." His eyes grew darker as he lowered his voice, rumbling the question.”

She laughed quietly, and fingered the fine hair at the nape of his neck. "Not a problem. I'm absolutely, one hundred percent available." She pulled back, and stroked her red-tipped fingernail along his sideburn. "And I'm offering. No strings attached. No questions asked. Doesn't get easier than that."

The woman shuddered as his warm breath palpated her flushed cheek. However, had she been looking into his eyes instead of nibbling his earlobe, she would have seen only the hint of a smile and eyes not as sparkling and seductive as a minute or two before.

He closed his eyes, and let out a long, bored sigh of indifference. There was no challenge trying to seduce a woman without anyone to seduce her away from. This woman was on a hunt of her own. He, however, wanted to be the hunter.

As the final chord resonated, the performer pulled the corded mike from its cradle on the stand. Pushing the microphone flush against his mouth, he bent forward at the waist, and then dramatically straightened up, flipping his longish curls back.

"This next song we're gonna perform, well, it's personal." He sighed, closed his eyes and raised his face to the sky. "And I'm dedicating it to someone very special. She's been there with me from the start. From the very beginning. But last night, we had a row over her mum. And does that woman of mine got a mouth on her!" Jimmy howled, eliciting a few cat calls. "I'm just funnin' with ya." He winked at someone in the audience. "So this is me, telling you, I’m sorry.” He smiled and pointed into the audience. "This is for you, Kitten."

"Nothing quite as romantic as airing your dirty laundry in a filthy pub," said the woman with a superior grin. She smirked at the musician. "Whattya say we get out of here, hmm?" She pressed herself up against the man, feeling his lean, toned body through the cotton of his orange tee-shirt.

“ _Every rose has its thorn,_ ” crooned the lead singer accompanied only by his own guitar.

The woman audibly groaned. "Oh you have got to be kidding me. What a total wanker! And that must be Kitten, sitting over there, the poor thing," said the brunette. She looked over the man's shoulder, and then clucked her tongue sympathetically.

He turned and looked over his shoulder. A young blonde woman was sitting alone at a table not too far from the bar. Her hands were wrapped tightly around a tall glass holding a brown beverage punctuated by two pink straws. Her eyes were closed as she drew in a deep breath. Her full, pink lips were pinched together as she were stifling any further emotions from public view. Bypassing the straws, she lifted the glass and drank deeply.

He removed his attention from the sad blonde woman, refocusing on his lager. He took a long, slow draught. The brunette was already forgotten, even though she was still standing between his legs. The man patted her shoulder, and the woman pouted for a moment, but then regained her confidence. She brushed her exposed cleavage against his bare arm. "You're not paying attention to me," she said with a sly grin. "I'm over here, not over there." She pointed in the general direction of the crowd.

He ignored the woman’s brazen attempts to bed him. His thoughts were elsewhere now. Something about the young blonde woman's plight was making him itch to confront the singer.

The singer's words had been honey-sweet, but there was a hardness in his eyes that showed a wholly different intent. He clenched and unclenched a fist under the bar as he watched the young woman withdraw her eyes from the musician, and then turn her head this way and that, as if she were trying to escape her boyfriend's attention.

There had been a time when he would have jumped up on the stage and yanked the cord from the guitarist's amplifier. He would have given him one chance — just one — to apologise properly. But that was when he was younger. So many years ago now. playing the hero had always guaranteed kisses of gratitude, a soft, willing body, and a warm bed for the night. Mentally, he pushed the heroic thoughts aside. He didn't like this uncomfortable, anxious, and worried feeling that he might do something foolish. Conversely, he did not like that he felt a bit of something akin to worry for the woman. He decided it would be best to leave.

"Hey, where you going?" asked the brunette, affronted.

"Sorry, I'm going to have to say no. I have to be up early tomorrow. Thanks for the offer."

The woman frowned. "She's gone, you know. The breakup song girl," the woman said, no longer touching him. She produced a cigarette and lit it. "That blonde was too young for you anyway. Me, on the other hand. Well, your loss, mate." The brunette swung her hips to the other end of the bar.

He placed money on the bar, slipped on his long, brown coat and left the dark pub. As he emerged into the damp, night air, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her. She was leaning against the stone façade. He started to walk away, but the quiet sound of sniffing made him hesitate. He turned and looked, able to see her hands shaking as she tried to light a cigarette with a match.

"You know, smoking is terrible for you," he said, walking slowly towards the blonde girl, hands in his pockets. "The list of chemicals that you inhale in each-"

"Course I know it's bad for me." The woman struck a second match, successfully lighting her cigarette. She brought it to her lips, inhaled deeply, and then frowned. Forcefully, she threw it to the ground, and crushed it under the sole of her shoe. "Been ciggy-free for months. Not gonna start up again," she said under her breath.

He scratched the back of his head. "I know it is none of my business. But, well, I saw what happened in back in the pub. Is that singer a friend of yours?"

"Jimmy? He's my boyfriend. Quite the catch, isn't he?" she said with a sarcastic smile. It faded quickly. "I just had to get outta there."

The woman was wearing a short-sleeved, terry cloth zip-front hoodie. It was far too little clothing to shield her from the cold Orkney night air. He surveyed the woman's bare forearms, recognising yellowing bruises, the telltale signs of an injury that had happened perhaps a week or two before. But there were matching bruises on each of her arms. _Not an accident, then,_ he thought to himself. "Are you all right?" he asked, frowning as he looked at her forearms.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Really." She looked over at him, and broke into a sunny smile.

"Do you want me to call you a taxi? Or I could walk you back to your place? I'd offer to take you back to mine.” He couldn't help himself as his true nature kicked in and he offered her a seductive smile. “But I assume that isn't something you would agree to."

"I'm flattered," she said with a chuckle and an eye roll, "but no, ta."

He lowered his eyebrows. "You sure you're all right?" he asked again, this time without the seduction. He copied her pose, leaning against the wall, his arm against hers.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Really. He's not so bad, Jimmy isn't, not really. Besides, I'm officially with the band." She fiddled with her gold hoop earring.

He frowned for a moment, until the woman started to hum a tune. He listened her voice as they stood, quietly content to enjoy the clear night.

"So much light pollution here in town," he said after a few minutes of comfortable silence. "You can hardly see any stars. Shame. I'm very good at naming constellations. I could tell you the name of any cluster of stars visible to the human eye, and most visible through a telescope. I'm very good. Where I live, the sky is as black as the blackest velvet, and the stars look like diamonds." His eyes sparkled as he watched her face.

"That may be the worst pickup line I have ever heard, mate," she said with a hearty laugh.

"You think that's a pickup line?" he asked, scowling as if hurt.

"You tell me,” she replied.

"Naw. If I had said that your eyes outshone Polaris, now that would have been a terrible pickup line. I was merely noting the horrid sky-watching conditions, and how lucky I am to live someplace where the stars are almost as beautiful as your eyes." He smiled and waggled his eyebrows.

She laughed, smiling so much that those twinkling eyes of hers were nearly hidden behind her eyelids. "So you're not just bloke out on the pull?" she asked with what some would say was a flirtatious grin, though he could tell she was being serious.

He scrunched his face and thought for a moment before he shook his head. He was unsure now. Was he? "Not really. I'm sort of a hermit these days." It was a half truth. He had sought companionship recently, though not as often as he had in the past. He did the mental math, and realised it had been twelve lunar cycles since he had accomplished a seduction.

"Well, Mr. Hermit, I'm Rose Tyler." She held out her hand, waiting for him to shake it.

"Well it is very nice to meet you, Rose Tyler." He shook her hand, then released it. "John Smith."

"So what do you do, John?" Rose shifted her position against the wall.

"I'm a — fisherman."

"Course you are," she drawled, wearing a half smile that was more of a smirk.

"Well, more specifically, I own a fishing boat, and I take people — mainly visitors — out fishing. On the ocean."

She raised an eyebrow.

"No, no, no! Really. I am." He pulled his ear, when he saw the doubt on her face. "Why don't you believe me? This is a fishing community, after all."

"You don't really look like a fisherman. You aren't all grizzled and leathery. Your skin is beautiful and I really said that out loud, didn't I?"

John was quite proud of his physique, and he smiled. "You think I'm foxy?"

Rose sputtered and false started her sentence a few times. "You don't see too many fishermen as well-dressed as you. Well, except for the orange tee-shirt." She laughed and then blushed. "Okay, I do believe you. Don't really have a reason not to. So.” She cleared her throat. “What's a well-dressed fisherman like you doing in a dump like this? Don't tell me you're here for the music."

"I'm definitely a music fan," he said with a sage nod. "I love to sing, and have been told I have a very… sultry… voice." Again, his seductive nature showed itself.

“I bet you do," she said breathlessly, again flushing pink. "So.” She laughed and fiddled with her earring. "What do you think of Jimmy's angsty, authentic, and real music?"

"Oh, is that how he describes his music?" John asked with a manic grin. "That's an awful lot to live up to."

"Got that right," Rose said, under her breath.

"Well," he said, drawing out the word. "I've heard worse."

"You always this rude?" she asked.

"Was that rude?"

Rose nodded, knowing what he had said about the band was painfully true. She looked down at her shoes. "We're just passing through, doing a small tour of Northern Scotland, the Hebrides and the Orkneys, me and the band."

"The London accent sorta gives you away." He paused. “The London accent sorta gives you away." He paused. "And the fact that you just called this place 'the Orkneys.' The locals would say that your band is touring Orkney."

She smiled and nodded. "Ta. So you live here?"

"Aye. All my life. Born and bred. Well not here in Kirkwall. But from around here. The sea is in my blood."

"What's that like? Living someplace so small and remote?"

"It's pretty quiet most of the time—"

“Shit!" hissed Rose under her breath as she caught sight of her boyfriend emerging from the alley. "Here comes Jimmy."

John frowned and moved to somewhat block Rose from the leather-jacketed man.

"Hey, Jimmy," she said as casually as she could. "How'd the set go? Sorry I left. I had a bit—"

"Why'd you leave, Rose? Huh? You shaming me?" He stepped closer.

"Seems to me that she was trying to explain why she left just now, and you interrupted her," said John, jaw set tightly.

"Who the hell are you, and why are you talking to my woman?"

"No, Jimmy. It's nothing like that. I just came out for a—"

"One, I wasn't speaking with _your woman_ , I was speaking with Rose Tyler. She is the band's manager, isn't she?"

Jimmy frowned.

John pushed out his hand. "John Smith, talent agent. Who are you?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

With a confused look on his face, Jimmy accepted the handshake, and grimaced at the strength of the thin man's grip. "Jimmy Stone."

"Right. Mr. Stone, I think I know of someone who would really, really like your sound. It is very unique. Very," John said, feigning seriousness.

Rose watched on, somewhat awed at the man's improvisation skills.

"No shit?! That's brilliant! Go inside, Rose. This is business talk. And get me and Mr. Smith here a couple of pints. The expensive stuff."

“Hold on, I think your manager should stay. It is business talk after all."

"Yeah. I s'pose," Jimmy squinted and guffawed a bit. "Is that an Owl City shirt you're wearing?" Jimmy gawped at the orange teeshirt under John's suit jacket. "Do you represent them?" he asked, excited.

"Him. It's a him. Wish I did. He's brilliant."

"So from your professionalistic standpoint, do you think we have a chance to make a go of it in the big time? London even?" Jimmy asked, crossing his arms and leaning in to listen.

"Of course you do! But first you have to continue your tour of small, intimate places. Like this pub, for example. It will give your band that certain authenticity that only comes from playing in small venues. You need to pay your dues, right? Village halls, retirement parties, weddings, school dances. Maybe do a tour of the Hebrides?" John suggested, looking over at Rose.

“Right, right," said Jimmy as he nodded in understanding. "But ain't that what we're doing now, Rose?"

"Um, yeah. We're here through Monday, and then we are heading—"

"I don't need the itinerary." He turned his attention back to John. "You're right, that's exactly what we need to do to get that authentic sound I'm always talking about. You understand me, don't ya? You understand the art I'm trying to create here. We need to play for real live people," said Jimmy, trying to sound authentic. "Rose, I want ya to start booking us into smaller places."

"I'll get right on that tomorrow, Jimmy," said Rose with a smirk.

"Obviously, you'll have to change your name to James if you want to be taken seriously," John said sternly. "And honestly, The Jimmy Stone Experience is a rubbish name for a band. Come up with something new. Something… _real._ ” He paused and leaned in. "Something… authentic?" John smiled knowingly. "How about — Oh! It's right in front of my nose." His voice went low. "Shorten it. Stone." He looked over at Rose, and winked.

Jimmy thought for a moment, and then he nodded. "Stone. I like that. That's good! Rose, make sure you book us under the new name."

She nodded with a sigh.

"Oh, would you look at the time," John said suddenly. "I'm going to be late for my appointment to listen to a folk band that call themselves Forest of Cheem. I hear one of them plays a mean wooden flute. Or was it a recorder? Ever heard of them?"

"Nuh uh."

"Well then. I'll be in touch, Jimmy. We'll do espresso. It was very nice to meet you, Ms. Tyler." John turned to face Rose. "I certainly hope that we'll see each other again." He lifted her hand to his lips, and kissed her knuckles, keeping his eyes trained on hers.

"Yeah, that’d—” She cleared her throat and nodded. "That'd be great. Bye, Mr. Smith." Rose smiled at him.

John released Rose's hand and saluted the man, touching two fingers to his forehead. He spun on his worn white Converse heel, shoved his hands into his brown pinstriped trouser pockets, and strode away, whistling the same tune he had heard Rose humming when they first met. Before he was half of a city block away, he turned and looked over his shoulder once. He saw Rose standing in the doorway of the pub.

As subtly as she could, she waved, and then disappeared inside.

oOo

He wondered what had changed. Why was he alone in the sea? The last of the selkie-folk. He couldn't prove it, but he knew they were gone. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a brother, sister, uncle, aunt or cousin bobbing in the waves, staring at the shore, searching for a mate. It had been decades since he'd heard the dulcet tones of another selkie calling out for a human.

Had the selkie-folk made some sort of a group decision to become human without telling him? Had they all left the sea? Had their skins been stolen? Or had they been given up willingly?

Selkie-women had, for the most part, longed to live on shore. There had been exceptions of course, but as a rule females chose to lead human lives, have children. Once their children were grown, some would reclaim their skins and return to the sea. But most stayed with their husbands, surrendered their skins lovingly. That meant marrying, having children, growing old, and dying. just like humans.

Selkie-men, on the other hand, had little desire to tie themselves to the shore or to only one woman. They wanted to sample the delights that human females offered, and they were masters of seduction. But they didn't want any woman, they lived for the hunt. The chase. The seduction. They wanted to _steal_ a woman away from her man. Selkie-men wanted the satisfaction of knowing they were the winner, the champion. He had only known a handful of males who had surrendered their skin to a woman, thereby sealing their fate as a human — to grow old alongside their chosen mate.

Last night, for the first time ever, he had felt a smidgen of a hint of a tiny tickle in the general area of his heart that maybe he wanted that too. To settle down, keep his legs, live one life with one woman. There was a way about her, perhaps it was the light in her golden-brown eyes. Something had sparked a teeny desire to be domestic. He tamped down the thoughts. He was the last of his kind! Who would carry on the ways of the selkie-folk if he surrendered his coat? If he became human? No. It could never be. He was the last one.

He launched himself out of the water and onto a flat spot on the rocks at the base of the towering cliff. Using his flippers, he pulled himself into the tiny cave, which had been carved by eons of waves crashing into the rock wall. He tipped his nose upward, and stared at the moon. His glossy, chestnut brown, furry skin slid away, revealing his naked, human form. With a grin, John Smith leapt to his feet, picked up his skin and stuffed it into a crack in the rock wall. He stretched his hands heavenward, reaching towards the silvery moon hanging in the night sky. He felt the rivulets of water dripping down his white, freckled skin. The rock was cold and hard beneath the soles of his feet. He shivered against the ever-present salt-scented wind as it dried the sea water off his body.

With an animal-like shake of his head, he sent droplets of water in a million directions. His brown hair — the same colour as his coat — stuck out wildly. John pushed his long, delicate fingers through his hair, tousling it this way and that, arranging it into a modern style he knew human women of this era favoured greatly — if their tugs at his locks during moments of ecstasy were any indication.

His surveyed his stash of human clothing. What should he wear tonight? The brown pinstriped suit? The blue? Tight denim jeans and a pullover? He settled on a form-fitting black tee-shirt and jeans. Regardless of his outfit of choice, two things were constant: the long brown coat that nearly touched the ground and the white Chuck Taylor shoes.

Once dressed, he double-checked that his precious skin was safely hidden from human sight. Of course it was. What were the chances of a human abseiling down this particular a cliff face? Finding his perfectly camouflaged home out of the sea? Hadn't been discovered yet. Not once in over a millennia.

With the inhuman strength of his toned, lean muscles, John scrambled up the rock face of the cliff, just as he had done thousands of times. The thrill of what was to come fuelled his speed, and in no time, he hauled himself onto the bluff. He looked out over the sea, his watery home, and smiled.

John had spent most of the night, and then all day thinking about _her._ Last night he had been concerned for her well-being. He still was, if he were being honest. But then he had pushed the concern aside, and focused instead on his baser desires. Quickly, concern had given way to lust. He'd spent hours imagining her luscious lips kissing him, his fingers gliding over the curves, dips and valleys of her creamy white skin. John breathed in the sea air, released it with a grin, and strode towards town.

He hadn't wanted a particular woman this badly in a long time. She was the perfect target: discontented but constant. She was like a ripe piece of fruit, barely clinging to the branch. Juicy, sweet, soft — but still yielding, and just a wee bit out of reach. Only one proverbial leap, and the proverbial fruit on the proverbial tree would be in his hand, and he would bring it to his lips, and then he would take a bite, letting the juice drip down his chin.

He imagined her waiting for him — the blonde with the soulful brown eyes and an almost-broken heart sitting at a table in that dingy pub, forcing herself to listen to that tosser of a boyfriend singing frightfully bad songs. He knew exactly how it would go. She needed a friend, someone non-threatening. A best mate. He'd tell her jokes, flirt, but not too much. She'd laugh and touch his arm. She'd flirt back, but not too much either.

He'd ask her to dance, just as mates of course. He'd pick a fast song, jump around a bit, be silly even, get her laughing, loosen her up, lower her inhibitions. And then, the slow song he'd requested anonymously would begin to play. He'd pull her into his arms, not too closely though, not at first. Quietly, he'd sing the lyrics into her ear. She'd close her eyes and sigh, resting her head on his shoulder. And then — _then —_ after he'd steered them into a dark corner, away from prying eyes, he'd explain just how wrong Jimmy Stone was for her. How she deserved so much more. She deserved the stars and the moon and the whole universe. And he'd offer it to her. How could she say no to that?

John opened the door of the pub and the sound of Snow Patrol hit him. There was no band, just the jukebox. He scanned the half-filled room for her blonde head, but Rose Tyler wasn't there.

“Where's the band? You know, the rubbish one with the idiot who sounded like a dog howling at a siren?" he asked, striding to the bar.

”Up and quit on us this morning," answered the bar keep. "Sorry. Jukebox tonight, mate.”

oOo

Rose shook, furious at Jimmy, but also at herself. How could she have been so blind for so long? Why hadn't she walked out on him ages ago? More important, why had she turned her back on her own mum? Refused to listen to her warnings? Everything that her mother had warned her would happen, _had_.

She clenched and released her hands a few times, heaving her breath in and out. The palm of her right hand still stung from the slap she had just laid on Jimmy. He must have been shocked by her actions, because he was still silent, holding his hand to his face.

The last thing she wanted right now was for Jimmy to think she was weak. So what if Jimmy had just called her the foulest name from his filthy vocabulary? It wasn't the first time. But this time was going to be different. She was not going to take it. Not anymore. She was finished with him.

"You just slapped me!" Jimmy shrieked, finally responding to Rose. He balled one fist, and reached out with the other to grab her by the arm.

”Don't you dare even think about touching me, Jimmy Stone," said Rose, low and strong as she dodged out of his reach. "Or I swear, I _will_ go to the cops this time. And I have plenty of bruises to show them!"

Jimmy withdrew his hand, but hunched over slightly so they were nose to nose. Rose backed up another step, straightened her shoulders and glared up at him.

"Remember that pretty boy from last night? The music agent?" he asked with a sneer.

Rose tipped her chin defiantly. "Course I do." She swallowed hard. "You never had the guts to call him, did ya?"

He squinted at her and hissed before speaking "Guess what? The number rings up a Chinese takeaway!" Jimmy yelled, waving the scrap of paper in Rose's face.

Rose held her breath, blocking the stench of too many pints too early in the day, and distanced herself from the man. "Well that isn't my fault, now is it? You believed him, didn't ya?" she responded, her tone, biting. "Besides. It wouldn't be the first time a bloke lied, now would it?" She mustered more courage, and lowered her voice even further. "You've been lying to me for months now, Jimmy. And I am tired of it.”

“Lying? What? Who says I'm lying?" he asked nervously, running his hand through his tousled brown curls.

"How about I give you a list of names of every girl you've slept with between London and here? And the drugs, Jimmy! You told me you were done with those a year ago!"

"A man's got needs, woman. You don't understand what it's like to be me! I'm an artist! I need inspiration!"

"So that girl you were shagging in the back of the van. Was she inspiring?" Rose asked, angrily.

"What?!" he said, squinting at her. "That — I wasn't — we weren’t — that…” He breathed in and out a few times. "That doesn't count. I was drunk. I didn't know what I was doing. I thought it was you, that's what!" he said, defensively.

"Right,” Rose drawled. “‘Cos her curly ginger hair reminded me so much of my blonde hair.”

“You know what? Yeah, she _was_ a great lay!"

Rose bit her tongue, knowing that her next words were crucial. Jimmy was easily pushed over the edge, especially now that he was no longer clean. "You're right, Jimmy. We're wrong for each other," she said carefully. "You want fame and to make music and that's not my dream. You'll do better without me."

He huffed, sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "Go on then, get out! See if I care, you stupid bitch! You were only good for one thing anyway, and you ain't even that good. And there are plenty of girls begging me to do them. Go on, run off like a little girl! Go crying back to your mummy! She's a stupid, ugly cow, and so are you!"

Before she could change her mind, Rose ended it with Jimmy Stone. For good.

oOo

_One Month Later_

She sat on the sand with her back against a piece of driftwood. Out to sea, she could just make out a furry brown head with shining dark eyes bobbing in the water. She had watched her new animal friend for what seem like hours. He was different from the other seals who frequented the beach, although she couldn't put a finger on what that difference was. He — she assumed it was a he — he bobbed in the same spot, near the cliff. Once he appeared, he never went back under, never dove for fish, never went up onto the rocks with the other seals. He seemed content to simply ride the tide.

"You're lucky," she shouted above the wind. "You're lucky Mr. Seal. Eating clams or fish or whatever it is you eat, and just swimming. Not having to worry about anything. Or anyone.” Her voice trailed off. "I'm going mad. I'm talking to a seal."

The seal barked. Rose smiled. And then she waved. The furry brown head bobbed above the water for another moment, and then disappeared into the cold, grey, Orcadian waters.

Rose took a sip of her tea and focused on the sound of the waves against the shore. She didn't keep track of how much time was passing. The only thing Rose felt was complete and utter relaxation and contentment. She could swear she heard a man singing. Probably a dream. It was too beautiful to be real.

From behind, the sound of footsteps pulled her from her reverie. She turned and looked over her shoulder, cupping her eyes against the noonday light.

Behind her was a naked man. A _gloriously_ naked man. And he was beautiful. From his wind-whipped hair, to his wiggling toes, and everything in between, he was _perfect_. And Rose Tyler choked on a laugh when she realised that his _sensitive parts_ were tenuously covered by a copy of the local newspaper wrapped around his hips, though the taunting wind threatened to snatch it away at any moment.

He flushed under her scrutiny, and finally cleared his throat. "I seem to have lost my clothing. Could you help me?" he asked. His hair flapped in the wind as he danced on his tiptoes, attempting to keep warm.

"John Smith?" asked Rose between gasps of laughter that threatened to bring tears to her eyes, it was so full of mirth.


	2. Two

Like always, he was alone in the cove. The other seals had hightailed it to the shore or hurtled onto the rocks the moment they felt his presence in the protected waters of the bay. They didn't like him. They thought he was a showoff, which he was. They're just jealous, he told himself. They had to work to find their food, but not him. No. The fish actually swam to him. Mollusks opened their shells at his request. It was sort of an honour to be his supper after all. 

"Have fun on the cold hard rocks," he barked in their general direction after he broke the surface of the water.

He missed playing with other seals. Bantering, joking, and sharing meals was now a thing of the past. He never had gotten involved in the mess of petty politics, though. The power plays, ridiculous attempts at matchmaking. The herd leader had wanted to change the so-called bad reputation that male selkies had built for themselves. He was proud of who he was. He had brought joy into the lives of those women he'd seduced, right? Freed them from loveless marriages! Given them nights of comfort and pleasure while their fishermen husbands were at sea.

"Do you really think that all of those women you seduced over the past few hundred years were happy to find themselves alone in their beds the morning after? And what about the men who came home to wives with swollen bellies? Knowing the babes were not their own flesh and blood? You are reckless and heartless! We females realised long ago that our lives are much easier on land than in the sea. Human men adore us. They treat us like goddesses. But you, oh no. Misery follows in your wake!" 

Those were the last words he remembered being uttered by his herd matron before he had been banished from their common cave.

Was living with one human woman for the rest of his life really such a bad thing? He certainly didn't feel free anymore. Free from whom? From what? He had no seal society to constrain him. He was a people unto himself. The last of his kind. "But isn't this what a male selkie is supposed to do?" he mused to himself as he shook away the melancholic, domestic thoughts.

With a quick flick of a fin, he spun 180 degrees, orienting himself towards shore. He kept himself upright rather than lolling over onto his back to scan the rocky beach.

And there she was. The woman with the blonde hair. She'd come down to the shore a few times before, and each time, she had simply sat on the beach, nibbled on a snack, or enjoyed a hot drink and watched the waves. Sometimes she would stay five minutes, other times, a couple of hours. _How long will she stay today?_ he wondered to himself.

She sat down, and leaned up against a piece of driftwood. Looking out to sea, she took a sip from her travel mug — tea he guessed as he noticed a bit of steam escape from the mouthpiece. He saw her focus her attention away from the water as she retrieved her mobile phone and brought it to her ear. A wide grin spread across her face. He loved her smile. It was beautiful — like the sun bouncing off of the churning waters at Yesnaby. The conversation was short, and her mobile was soon back in the pocket of her puffy coat.

And then their eyes met. He blinked and so did she. Their eyes never strayed. She watched him, and he watched her. For an hour and fourteen minutes they watched each other. She took a few breaks to take a sip of her drink or adjust her position on the sand. But she remained. Watching. 

And then, her voice broke the silence. "You're lucky," she shouted above the wind. "You're lucky Mr. Seal. Eating clams or fish or whatever it is you eat, and just swimming. Not having to worry about anything. Or anyone.”

"Are you lonely, my lovely pink and yellow sea lily?" he barked back.

She smiled at him, and then she waved. Like a schoolboy who'd been surprised by a sweetheart's kiss, he bobbed in the water for a moment, unable to move. She had spoken to him. Did that count as a summons? Had she wished to make contact with a male selkie? He was grasping at straws. Of course she wasn't officially asking the sea for a selkie-man. It wasn't high tide. And she wasn't crying into the ocean. 

He'd never been officially summoned before, not that it had bothered him, not really. But strangely, he found himself slightly disappointed. _Probably not Orcadian anyway. I bet she doesn't even know the rite,_ he thought to himself.

He bobbed for another moment, and then retreated into the cold, grey, Orcadian waters.

If she wasn't going to summon him, perhaps he should seduce her. It was the ninth night, so he could shed his skin today. Like a torpedo, he shot through the water to his lair. Hastily, he launched himself onto the smooth rock, and peeled off his skin, singing a hauntingly beautiful song of a woman who was unlucky in love.

He quickly chose clothing appropriate for a beach-comber: his favourite jeans — the skinny ones — his orange tee-shirt, and a puffy coat almost identical to hers. Once dressed, he scrambled up the rocky cliff-face, and then ran like the wind down the aged path that led to the beach. The sun peeked from behind the clouds, stopping him dead in his tracks. It had been such a long time since he'd simply lazed around, stretched out on a rock, basking in the sun. It was a selkie's _second_ -favourite thing to do — seduction being the first, of course — and he'd only do it for a little while. It always put him in such good mood.

oOo

Naked John Smith put only one hand on his hip, as the other was too busy holding the newspaper in place in a battle against the wind. "So are you going to help, or just stand there laughing at my nakedness?" he asked with a coy smile.

”Oh, I'm not laughing at your body, you're gorgeous! Oh!" Rose clapped her hand over her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut.

The man stood straighter and tipped his chin ever so slightly.

”I just said that out loud, didn't I?" Rose opened one eye, saw the self-satisfied grin on his face, and again, succumbed to hysterical laughter. Her shoulders bobbed up and down, though this time, her laughter didn't produce a sound. 

“Care to share with the class?" John asked, his eyebrows almost touching his hairline.

It took some effort, but Rose pulled herself to her feet. She pointed, one hand covering her mouth.

"You need to control yourself, lass. I'm afraid you're going to have some sort of an attack!"

Rose breathed in and out a few times, effectively calming herself, save a giggle or two that slipped out. "Not everyday I get see a gorgeous naked bloke on the beach. Oops!" Again, she'd let her thoughts be voiced.

"I'm not completely naked. I do have this very fashionable paper kilt — even though kilts are not traditional in Orkney. Did you know that? The Orcadians never operated under the clan system, therefore no tartans, no bagpipes, no kilts. Bit of a shame, really. I do love a good kilt, even if it is made out of newsprint. I shouldn't even be covering my very impressive manly bits." He eyed the newspaper.

Rose's eyes went wide at the statement, and her diminishing laughter finally stopped altogether. “You go ahead and keep that newspaper right where it is, thank you very much." Using her pointer fingers, Rose wiped away the tears of laughter from under her eyes. "You don't remember me, do you, John Smith?"

"We've met before?"

"Yeah. About a month ago, in town."

"Well that's sure embarrassing. I always remember the women I seduce." He looked upwards, flipping through the mental collection of women he'd enticed.

"What?" Rose's mouth fell open.

"Was I good? Of course I was! Never had a complaint, yet." He waggled his eyebrows.

"We've never had sex!" she screeched. "But I bet you're very, very good," Rose groaned loudly and dropped her face into her hands. "Shutupshutupshutup," she mouthed.

The corners of his mouth turned upwards as he bounced on his bare toes. "A bit of a relief, that. At least my memory isn't starting to go."

"You don't, do you? Remember me, I mean." Rose's eyes went wide as she contemplated his words. "You're naked. Naked on the beach in the middle of the afternoon. And you just assumed we knew each other because you'd seduced me? Why? No! Don't answer that! I don't think I want to know!"

John opened his mouth to speak, but Rose interrupted. "You're a — you're a male escort, aren't you?" She pulled in a breath of astonishment. "And your client's husband just found you at that posh hotel right up the beach and kicked you out before you could put on your pants!"

He was quiet for a moment, then quirked his mouth. "I am sure some women would have been more than happy to pay for my talents, but no. I'm not an escort. I _never_ make women pay, and I never have to solicit."

"You think you're so impressive," she muttered through nervous laughter.

"I don't think I am, I _know_ I am." John took one step closer, and studied her face.

Rose blushed. "I was actually having you on... I mean... about the whole... uh... escort...thing." Her voice trailed off, she waved the words away with her hand and then blew them away through her lips. She averted her eyes, looking out at the grey sea.

”You do look familiar, come to think of it. A month ago, eh?" He took another step towards Rose.

Rose returned her attention back from the sea to the land, but didn't look John in the eyes. Instead, she rested her eyes on the smattering of soft, brown hair on his bare chest. She swallowed hard noting the last man she had seen without his shirt. Jimmy. They had snuck into the swimming pool of a cheap hotel. The swimming pool had been tiny, the tile grimy, and the placed had smelled of mildew and too much chlorine. Rose dragged a foot across the sand in front of her and closed her eyes, wiping the memory away.

"I didn't mean to — I’m so sorry that I don't remember you. I know I should, because — you're lovely. I mean that." Little crinkles softened the corners of his dark brown eyes as he apologised softly. Had both of his hands been free, he would have placed them on her shoulders.

Rose bit her lip, and looked down at her trainers. He touched the bottom of her chin, tipped her face upwards so that she had no choice but to look at him. For a long moment, she stood perfectly motionless as she stared into the depths of his eyes, ancient, dark and hypnotic. He hummed a little tune, soothing her, calming her, lulling her with an otherworldly melody. Rose felt like she was being tugged into him by a string attached to her heart. As if her lips would burn away if he didn't extinguish that fire with his kiss.

And then the song ceased and the string snapped. Rose's eyes fluttered open, and she realised she had never moved at all. She hadn't even known her eyes had closed. She was still firmly planted one foot away from the beautiful man, though her body was starting to make it clear that she wished she were closer than close. 

Rose cleared her throat. "About a month ago, we met outside of a pub in town. I shouldn't expect you to remember me. I didn't really look like this. Glasses and baggy jumpers were sorta — forbidden." She pushed her black-framed spectacles up her nose, silently berating herself for listening to and following Jimmy's idiotic 'rules' about maintaining a sexy appearance — well, his idea of sexy.

He squinted and looked out towards the horizon. "I do remember you now. You were with the band, and your boyfriend dedicated that wholly inappropriate song to you."

Rose sighed, ran a hand over the side of her head to smooth the wispy hairs that had escaped her messy bun. "Not anymore. I'm not with the band. Or Jimmy." She crossed her arms and stood a little taller.

"Your name. It's Rose. Rose Tyler." He said her name as if he were caressing her namesake. "What were you thinking about before, Rose Tyler? When you looked so sad a moment ago?" John broke the plane of her personal space.

"It was nothing." She waved off the question. "Really. Glad to be rid of the tosser, that's all."

"Right." Just for a moment, he had been interested in her well-being, her history. Not the health status of her romantic life. Jerkily, he stepped backwards, physically removing himself from the dangerously tender moment. He had to re-gain his footing. "Oh, there has to be something about your love life that has you dissatisfied. There's always something. Is there someone you fancy? Someone you fancy who doesn't return your affections?" With each question, he drew closer to her until his lips were next to her ear.

Now he was so close, she could breathe in his scent — it was like the ocean captured in a bottle. Salt and sun, the brisk north wind, that sharp scent of the air right as storm clouds release their fury. Everything that made the ocean both fresh and fearsome was embodied in the scent of this man.

Rose tipped her head, and inhaled long and slow, pulling the aroma deep inside, into her memory. She held in her breath, and then audibly sighed as she released. "You smell so beautiful."

He leaned forward and whispered into her ear. "Whoever he is, he is a fool not to return your love."

With eyes closed and a husky voice she replied. "There's no one.”

His toes, fingers and neck were tingling at the hope of a new conquest. He had to find a reason to seduce her. She was intoxicating. "No one? Not even a lover?" His tongue wrapped around the word.

Rose's eyes snapped open, and she frowned. "A lover? Really? Who even uses that word?"

"Oi! Lover is a perfectly good word!" He was almost manic in his defence of the term. "It's descriptive, concise, not nearly so juvenile-sounding as boyfriend or girlfriend. However, for most lovers I've known, love was hardly at issue. Their affairs were always about pure unadulterated lust."

"You're an expert on affairs now?" she squeaked.

"So have you ever thought of taking a lover?" His lips remained relaxed, open, as he awaited her reply.

"Stop saying the word lover. It's not a good word."

He closed his mouth and then smiled. "Single but looking? Have you ever been betrothed? Engaged? Married? Separated? Estranged? Divorced?"

“Aren't you listening to me? I'm single. I'm not taken. And I'm not interested in being taken!" She shook her head and squeaked. "I don't mean being taken like having you throw me over one of those broad shoulders of yours, and carried off so you can toss me onto the nearest bed and strip off my clothes kind of being taken. Oh shit!" Rose flapped her hands and grimaced. "You know what I mean! And you know what else? I'll tell you what I am! I'm happier than I've been in over a year! And you asked me what I was sad about? This: I was remembering one of the many bad times with my ex. But now, seeing you standing there without any clothes on reminded me of what it was like to actually feel wanted by someone, feel their skin against mine and—" She gasped and squeezed her eyes shut. "Why do I keep saying what I am thinking out loud?"

"Well, I tend to have that effect on people." The light in his brown eyes twinkled as he smiled at her. “You say you're happy, yet you were thinking about what it was like to have me as a lover?"

"No!" She shouted. "That's not what I meant at all!" She wished there was a chair should could plop down into. The conversation was becoming mentally taxing. "I guess I miss being cherished." She lifted a shoulder. "And I told you not to say lover." Rose cracked a small smile, trying to ease her own nervous tension. "It's so red velvet and a cheap hotel room that has a mirror above the bed."

"Nothing wrong with a mirror above the bed. In fact, I think you'd find that mirrors can be quite stimulating, especially when two people as beautiful as you and me come together."

She guffawed. "No. No! This isn't about you and me! I'm — I’m —”

"You're lonely. You long for more. I'm right, aren't I?" He looked at her lips as he awaited her answer.

"I'm happy! I'm happy! Gah! Why are you asking me all of these questions about my dull love life anyway? No. Don't answer that, especially while you're naked. Oh this is so weird." Rose squeaked and squeezed her eyes closed for a moment. She took a few calming breaths. "What I really want to know is why you're walking the beach without your clothing? I bet you're not half freezing out here."

"Oh," he said, wearing a self-effacing scowl, "it's not so bad. What with this lovely spring sun shining down on us, I decided to do a bit of sunbathing and then go in for a swim, so I did a perfect swan dive into the water — you should have seen it. You'd have been very impressed. But when I got out of the water, my clothing was gone. It must've blown away."

"Hold on, you were skinny dipping in the North Atlantic? In March?" She raised a single eyebrow.

"Yep." He bounced on his toes. "I do it all the time. Although, this is the first time that my clothing has disappeared. Handy that this newspaper happened to blow by." He grinned brightly at her.

"You're mad." Rose smiled right back, and gave him a good-natured slap on his bicep.

"That's me! Mad and naked. Now, if you would be so kind as to, _one_ , help me find my clothes, or _B_ , assist me in the procurement of clothing, I'd be forever in your debt." He tipped his head to the side, bowed slightly and nodded as if she were a medieval lady and he were a knight seeking her favour in the joust.

"Okay." Rose nodded quickly, knowing she was agreeing to this naked clothing hunt much too fast for common sense. Her feet, however, seemed to be in league with her common sense, and kept her glued to spot in the sand.

"Allons-y. Light is failing fast!" He looked straight ahead as he trudged through the course sand and rocks, not wincing once as he trod the path.

"Why am I following a naked man down the beach?" she mused to herself. "Hold up! Your gorgeous, manly legs are longer than mine!" Rose shouted ahead, and then groaned at her public utterance of private thoughts.

oOo

Much to John's pleasure, Rose had spotted his clothing down from the place where John had been sunning himself. It was caught on a piece of driftwood, soaking wet and sandy from its windswept journey over the sand and through a tide pool.

She a handed John a white terry-cloth dressing gown. The emblem of the inn where Rose both worked and lodged was embroidered in burgundy thread on the chest, though it had faded to dark pink from repeated washings.

"Oh!" Rose gasped as John dropped the makeshift paper loin-covering. Hastily, she turned to face the floral-papered wall.

John slipped on the soft, comfortable dressing gown and secured the belt with a loop. With a quick glance in the mirror that hung over a small desk, he fussed with his hair, examined his teeth and smiled at his handsome reflection, satisfied. "I'm covered up.”

Rose turned back around and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Gonna go and rummage through the abandoned items to see if I can find you something to wear while your things are in the washer," she announced, rocking on her feet and swinging her arms.

John spied a comfortable chair next to an old, stone fireplace. He dropped into it, draping himself over the worn, but elegant, piece of furniture. "Take your time. I'm not going anywhere," he purred.

"I'll, um, fetch some wood too. For a fire, I mean, if you'd like a fire in the room. Cosier in here with a fire." She couldn't tear her eyes away from the relaxed man. "So, will you be checking in then?" She cleared her throat. "I mean. I don't know where you live. Do you live in town? I just assumed — I mean I've never thought about it because I haven't been thinking about you, not per se, but then again, maybe you don't live in town.”

“No, I don't live in town. I just come in from time to time. And no, I don't have any money, so no, I won’t be checking in.“

"You're a cheap date," Rose teased, but then blushed at her words.

"I don't carry any money in my paper kilt," he added with a smile. "So this is a date then?"

"I'll pay for the room," Rose blurted. "I mean — you could pay me back. I get a discount for family and friends who stay. I'll just check you in and take care - care - of - I’ll just go now." She fled the room.

Now that he was alone with his thoughts, he began to wonder. Why was he even still with Rose Tyler? She was not his type. Not at all. Not that she wasn't pretty, because she was beautiful. Her eyes shone like the moon reflected in his cove on a windless night.

But physical beauty should be unimportant to a selkie-man. 

Not honey blonde hair swept up to reveal a long graceful neck and certainly not plump pink lips or creamy white breasts hidden away like a treasure to be plundered from under that enormous jumper of hers oh he was in deep trouble.

Not only was she _content_ with her life, she had made it clear that she was downright _happy_. He should have simply walked away from her on the beach. But there was something keeping him interested, and that, in and of itself, was interesting.

And then he recalled the night of their first meeting. Oh, how sad she had been that night. It was all he could do to jump from his barstool, launch himself onto the stage and bash a guitar over Jimmy Stone's head. Maybe that was the reason! He was remembering that night. Recalling his biological imperative, his selkie-man desire to rescue her, steal her away from the astoundingly inferior Jimmy Stone. John smiled to himself, feeling safe. Perfectly safe. Not one domestic feeling. No. Nope. Not one single thought of settling down or surrendering his seal skin to this—”

“Knock, knock, you decent?"

Rose's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "Right. Yes. I'm — I still have the dressing gown on, and am completely covered. All covered up. From neck to knee. As covered as covered can be. Unless you don't want me covered."

"Covered is good." Rose opened the door and smiled at him. She held a bundle of clothing sandwiched between her hands. "I think these should fit. At least the shirt will. Not so sure about the track pants. Probably too short." She could feel her eyes glazing as she looked at John, sprawled on the chair, perfectly relaxed, hair tousled just so. She wanted to run her fingers through that hair of his. "You are so wonderfully tall and so very, very slender. One hundred percent pure, lean muscle on those legs of yours.” Her face flushed as she closed her eyes and pinched her lips together. "I said that out loud didn't I?"

He waggled his eyebrows at her. "It seems that your tongue is a bit loose around me. Are you always so forthright with your thoughts when you are with a man you are interested in? Hmm?"

“Eh, uh, interested in? Who says I'm interested?" Rose squeaked the question as she backed up until her heels hit the wall with a thud. She made a thumbing motion over her shoulder. "I'm just gonna go now, and see to things. Hotel things. Um, come to the front desk when you're finished, unless you never told me. Are you checking in?"

"I don't know. Am I?" His eyes twinkled as he stood slowly, pushed his hands into the pockets of the dressing gown, and sauntered towards her.

"Yeah. You — you're staying." Rose fled the room, reeling from the unchecked feelings of attraction she had for this stranger from the shore.

She shook the thoughts from her head as descended the stairs to the lobby, two at a time. "No more pretty men. No more flatterers. No more. I'm done with them. The lot of 'em.”


	3. Three

A heavy wooden door now separated Rose from the ridiculously gorgeous, seemingly irresistible John Smith. With a heavy sigh, she leaned against the door, closed her eyes, and let her head drop against it with a thud. 

What in the world was happening to her? Since she had left Jimmy, she had been so careful to not let her guard down. She hadn't cracked one trashy romance novel, and had only watched one romantic comedy - and that was only because her co-worker and new friend, Maeve McKay, had begged her to watch that cute film about a Scottish girl from the Outer Hebrides who had accidentally married a stranger.

But then along had come John Smith - with his espresso-coloured eyes, that wildly perfect hair, and those seductive words of his. In the space of less than an hour, he had breached her defences without her even knowing she was being invaded.

Never had a man so completely mesmerised her. It was as if she had been in an aroused daze since the moment they met on the beach. Maybe she was just stunned by the ridiculousness of the situation? Shocked by a gorgeous naked man asking for help? A gorgeous naked man. There was that word again. Gorgeous. Was her reaction some kind of hormone surge or adrenaline rush? That would make complete sense, yeah? Gorgeous and naked and oh! Heaven help her, that accent of his! And that cute little mole on his back that she'd noticed as he walked ahead of her on the beach. And that scent of his. How was it possible for someone to smell like thunderstorms, wind, and honey? She'd be an instant gazillionaire if she could find a way to bottle his scent and sell it as a men's cologne, or for women, for that matter.

Her heart raced, and her palms became sweaty as she imagined nuzzling into his neck and inhaling. Long-numb nether regions sprang back to life. She drew in a ragged breath in an attempt to calm her traitorous physical responses, and wiped her damp hands on her jeans.

Perhaps it was the texture of her jeans knocking her back to her senses. Her logic kicked in, and she knew she had to be sensible about this situation. What did she even know about this man? Near to nothing! He'd said months ago that he was either a fisherman or a charter boat operator. He had been a little wishy-washy about it. She needed to clear that up. It didn't really matter what he did, but it would be nice to know.

She did know he was from around there. Well, not from the village itself, but Orkney in general. He'd been vague about that, too. Why so vague?

But on the positive side, his personality was brilliant. He was funny, flirtatious, and obviously bright. He had been so kind to her, showing genuine concern for her well-being that night at the pub. As soon as had seen the bruises that Jimmy had left on her forearms, the lasting evidence of a particularly unpleasant argument the week before, she could sense something change in him. He had been protective of her. Sort of valiant. Even a little bit dangerous, given the gleam in his eyes she remembered seeing. And then, John had obviously been worried about Jimmy catching her talking with John — even though their conversation had been completely innocent. _Stupid git, Jimmy._ John had come up with that brilliant cover story, pretending to be talent scout! 

"Ha!" Rose boomed. Her voice echoed in the old, bare corridor. She smiled, remembering how John had managed to convince JimmyTheTosserStone that he had _remarkable_ talent whilst simultaneously insulting him spectacularly, Jimmy none the wiser.

And so, here she was, standing in the hallway of the hotel,fighting with herself whether or not to go back into the hotel room of a near stranger. Oh that man, what he did to her! First, she had developed a chronic case of blurting-private-thoughts-itis. Rose dropped her face into her hands, groaning, as she thought of her excited utterances. 

“Did I really tell him he was gorgeous? When he was standing there starkers?” She groaned again, louder this time, and then squeezed her eyes and fists tightly. “Blimey, but he is gorgeous”. She whimpered a bit. “I booked him into a room. And paid for it! Of course he thinks I'm gonna come back and have sex with him!” Rose banged the back of her head against the door three times. 

“He must think I'm a slag. Or desperate for a shag. Or both.” She groaned again. “I sorta am. Desperate. He is just so, so…” Rose searched for the perfect word. “…beautiful.”

Her thoughts continued to tumble as she pondered the man on the other side of the wall. She sighed, but this time, it was more ragged and full of longing. She pictured him sitting in that chair, sprawled over it like a teenaged boy, all arms and legs, but still totally and completely a man. His lips. So red and kissable. Especially that lower one. She straightened, turned around and faced the door. She made a fist and poised to knock. She needed to feel his lips, down deep inside she heard him beckoning her to come back. Come back. Comebacktome.

Rose touched her lips just to make sure they weren't on fire, because they burned for him, begging for her to kiss the life out of him! Or push him against the wall, or even better still, grab him by the waistband of those too-small track pants, and tug him to the bed. Would he let her do that? Or would he turn the tables? And she would let him if he wanted that. He'd push her onto the bed, and then hover over her on his hands and knees, tell her to take off her shirt, then her jeans.

Her pulse was racing now, her face, flushed and hot. Her usually comfortable jeans now felt scratchy against her suddenly over-sensitive skin. Should she knock? No! She shouldn't! She couldn't!

Rose squeezed her hands into fists, feeling her blunt-cut fingernails biting into the palms of her hands. "Rose Tyler, you're a bloody idiot. I've gotta get outta here," she squealed.

She backed away from the door, stood tall, and ran down the hallway. Suddenly, her head was clear, her self-control no longer fighting against her better judgment.

oOo

John Smith stared at the closed door. He pushed his hands into his pockets. Rose Tyler had made it clear that she was content with her life. She had no one to be stolen from. He shuffled the weight between his feet, withdrew one hand from his pocket and stroked his slightly stubbly chin. He took a moment to consider the one rule of a selkie man: never seduce a contented woman.

But he began to wonder. Where had that rule come from anyway? Had it been a biological imperative way back when? From the very beginning? Was it a physiological drive that he was to only seduce women who were discontented?

Or was the rule created by the elders of the selkie folk? Was it some ridiculous construct that had been put in place by the first of his kind? By Rassilon the Red and Gold himself? He was the one who'd found The Eye after all and tapped into its power. He'd stared into The Eye, and the deepest desires of his heart had been granted, and he'd been immediately transformed. He'd gone on to show The Eye to his family and friends, and all had been changed into the selkie-folk. They'd become creatures of long life, able to metamorphose from seal to human, and back again. And then, with the new, superior knowledge, Rassilon had gone on to discover how to harness the energy of the moon and the tides. He had wanted to be superior to all other creatures of the sea and land.

All his life, it had been drummed into John's brain: don't let a human woman steal your heart. You have a duty to your brothers. Women love the thrill of the illicit. Never take a happy woman away from her man. 

In the beginning, he had truly reveled in the feeling, the thrill, of stealing a woman away from her mate. Knowing he had been the one to give her one night of happiness, a night of pleasure. It him feel proud. _But there was nothing good or right about what he'd done_ at least not in human culture. He'd convinced _married women_. Women who had pledged before God and witnesses. John dropped his head, and looked down at his feet, and then ran a hand through his hair.

He thought of his skin, hidden away in his secret alcove. That skin represented so much: freedom, pleasure, long life. _His_ life. To give it away, to surrender it to a woman — _to Rose_. He had never pondered surrendering before. Was he really thinking of giving up his freedom?

John heard a groan from just outside the door, and his head snapped up. He peeked through the peephole, but the view of the hallway was obstructed. He couldn't see anything at all. Someone was blocking it. Rose must still be there, he thought. He put his ear to the wood. 

“Did I really tell him he was gorgeous? When he was standing right there? Completely starkers!"

It was definitely Rose's voice, but it was high and thin.

 _She's embarrassed_ , he thought. He heard another groan, this one louder than the first. _So everything she said, everything she did. It was just a biological response. Of course it was. I've been doing my hormone chemical cocktail seduction… thing… all afternoon._ John crinkled his nose as he chastised himself.

“Blimey, but he is gorgeous!"

 _But she thinks I'm gorgeous._ He made a happy little sound, but quickly stopped when he heard her softly whimper. 

"I booked him into a room. And paid for it! Of course he thinks I'm gonna come back and have sex with him!" Bang! Bang! Bang! "He must think I'm a slag. Or desperate for a shag. Or both." Another groan came through the door that separated them. "I sorta am. desperate. He is just so, so…" John raised an eyebrow as she stretched out the word. "…so beautiful."

John's eyes glazed as he wondered what it would be like to be with Rose.

Would she like his touch to be feather soft? Teasing? How he would enjoy taking time to map her body. Memorise every curve. Learn her sensitive places. The spots that made her groan and arch into his touch, silently form her perfectly plump lips into an "o," and quietly moan as he gave her pleasure, and finally, release, at his tender, patient touch.”

Or would she want him to be deliberate? To grab her knickers, rip them off, hungrily kiss her from head to toe, fast and wet, stopping to suckle and tease his way down her body until she was begging him to use his hands and mouth right. Oh yes! There! Now! Would she want it to be hard and fast until they were panting and groaning and crying out names over and over, her voice raspy from deep, guttural cries as she quickly came undone around him? And would their bodies would be slick from exertion, their skin sensitive to the touch, and chests heaving?

Either way, he knew he would collapse onto her, and then flip them so they were side by side, facing each other. He'd grin at her, and she'd smile, catching her tongue between her teeth.

John could smell his own pheromones swirling around him, and he knew he was singing his seduction song — the music directed at Rose on a wavelength beyond her physical hearing, straight into her mind and heart. He could hear her racing heartbeat, even through the door.

"Rose Tyler, you're a bloody idiot. I've gotta get outta here,” Rose squealed into the empty corridor.

Tears pooled in John's eyes, and he squeezed them away. He leaned against the door, his hand and cheek flush with the wood. _I won't do this to her. No. Not her,_ he thought to himself. He realised that his crisis of conscience had nothing to do with breaking any so-called Rule of Rassilon. This was about him not hurting her. _She deserves better than me. She needs a single human heart to love her. Not a seal man cursed with two hearts — one each for the land and one for the sea. She needs someone who will give her both passion and true love._

He slumped his shoulders as he halted the production of the heady cocktail of hormones and pheromones he had been releasing since he had met her on the beach. 

He palmed his hand on the scuffed the door. "Goodbye, Rose," he whispered.

Outside of his door, he heard shuffling, and then quick footfall fading into silence as Rose hurried down the corridor, away from him.

oOo

Rose couldn't stop thinking about the man upstairs in room number ten. She sighed as she thought of that perfect smile of his, and his cheeky sense of humour. And some really great hair. Not to mention those lips, and the words that had come from that mouth of his.

"Hello. Rose. Earth to Rose."

"What? Hmm?" Maeve's voice snapped Rose out of her thoughts.

"I've been standing her nigh five minutes trying to get your attention, woman!" teased the housekeeper. “Rose rolled her eyes. 

"You're having me on. It wasn't that long."

"Well maybe not five, but at least thirty seconds. What's got you off with the faeries?” Maeve aimed a bottle of glass cleaner and pulled the trigger, cleaning a smudge from the oval mirror above a decorative console table in the lobby.

"Well. it's sorta funny actually." Rose tugged on her gold hoop earring. "I met this man, down on the beach during my afternoon break."

"What?" Maeve gasped dramatically. "You talked to an honest to goodness male human being? Socially?"

"Shut up." Rose smiled wryly.

”I love to tease you. you take things so seriously." Maeve offered her a kind smile. "I know you're man vegan for the moment."

Rose laughed brightly at the phrase that both she and Maeve had adopted from the one exception she had made to her fast from romantic comedies. She twisted a dusting cloth in her hands. 

"It wasn't so much a social conversation as, well, the thing is, he was sorta-"

"Why are you blushing, Rose? I don't think I have ever seen you flustered." Maeve scrubbed the mirrored glass with a micro-fibre cloth.

Rose cleared her throat. "He was sorta in a, well, predicament, and I helped him out is all." The timer on her mobile phone sounded. "Oh. The laundry. I'll be right back."

"You're gonna tell me this story, Rose, whether you want to or not."

"Watch the desk for a mo?" Rose said, dodging her friend's demand. "I'm expecting a couple coming over from Paisley. I won't be but a couple of minutes." 

Thankful for the excuse to escape her friend's probing questions, Rose left a laughing Maeve. She made her way to the laundry room, which was in the basement of the old inn. She skipped down the uneven wooden stairs, and hastily pulled the warm clothing from the dryer. She couldn't help but sniff the sweetly-scented laundry. Somehow, John's scent still clung to the clothing. Rose drew in the aroma a second time, breathing in long and deep, filling her memory with the smell of the ocean and stormy weather that the detergent had failed to erase.

She hummed an unfamiliar but tuneful melody as she ran up the steps by twos, bypassed the ground floor, and launched herself into the first storey corridor. As if propelled, she hurtled down the hallway to room number ten. With the clothing draped over one arm, she cleared her throat, smoothed out her hair, and licked her lips, anticipating the kiss she was going to give him the moment he opened the door. 

_Kiss!? Where did that come from?_ Rose shook the thought from her mind. _I’m definitely not going to kiss him. Not yet. Yet?_ She made a faint growling sound of frustration, breathed in and out a few times to calm herself, and knocked on the door.

"John? I have your clothing fresh from the laundry. It's dry." She waited but there was no answer. She rapped twice, two knocks in quick succession. "John, I have your things."

No reply.

Rose pressed her ear to the door. The television was not drowning out the sound of her beckoning, nor was the radio blaring. The walls in this old hotel were thick, and nearly soundproof, but she thought she should be able to hear him coming to the door. She blushed at the thought that maybe she was interrupting him while he was using the toilet. She decided to wait a few minutes before trying again. Checking her watch multiple times, she counted down five minutes, and then again knocked and called for him. 

No whooshing of water. No footsteps. Nothing but silence. Pulling her master key from around her neck, she unlocked the door, and stepped in. "I'm coming in, John, but I'm closing my eyes in case you're wearing that newspaper kilt again."

Hearing no humorous, innuendo-laced comeback, Rose opened her eyes, but saw no one occupying the room. The chair by the fireplace, in which John had seductively sprawled himself earlier, was empty. She knitted her eyebrows together, and looked towards the en suite bathroom. The door was open, offering a clear view inside. Empty. She turned to look at the bed, which was behind her. 

Made-up and untouched.

But, on the bed was a single piece of paper folded neatly in half. Her name, in elegant looping cursive, was perfectly centred. Rose put the clothing down beside her, and sat, sinking into the folded goose down duvet draped across the foot of the bed. She unfolded the sheet of fine hotel stationery.

_My Beautiful Beach Blossom,_

_I am sorry to have put you to so much trouble because of my carelessness. Next time I go skinny dipping, I will weigh down my clothing with a rock to prevent another incident of nakedness._

_Dearest Rose Tyler, I will always remember your kind deeds, beautiful face, and generous heart._

_Lovingly,_

_John Smith_

Rose shivered as a brisk ocean breeze caught her off guard. 

Only then did she notice that the double-hung window was wide open. From her spot on the end of the bed, Rose could see the silhouette of a tall, thin man walking down the beach. Walking away from her, and most likely out of her life, forever.

 _Maybe it's for the best,_ she thought to herself, though not sure she actually believed her own thoughts. Rose looked down at the note that she was still clutching. With care, she re-folded it, adding a second and third fold so it was small enough to slip into the front pocket of her jeans.


	4. Four

Four lunar cycles passed, tides ebbed and flowed, and an extraordinary brown-eyed seal maintained his exile from the land and humanity. From the safety of the frigid waters in the cove, he scanned the shore every day to catch a glimpse of his Beach Blossom. And rain or shine, breeze or gale, she would come to the shore. Just as the sun had begun its slow descent from the zenith, Rose Tyler would appear.

With his keen senses, he could perceive a quiet thoughtfulness about her. She didn't read, didn't talk on her mobile, but instead, just sat and stared out across the water. Still. Calm. Content. This was a woman who did not need to be seduced.

The two times she had blessed him with her attentions, her hands had been in near constant motion. Fiddling with an earring one moment, nibbling her the tip of her short thumbnail the next, then moving to tuck a lock of her honey-coloured hair behind her ear.

But now, she was almost statue-still. She had become his beacon on the shore.

And on those days that the moon's proximity would have allowed him to shed his skin, his humanity screamed to be free. The flesh under his fur covered sealskin burned and itched so that he wanted to claw it off. But, he remained resolved to not shed his seal-self. Knowing full well, but afraid to admit to himself, that he would probably never put it back on if he were to take it off.

So he remained in the water. Miserable. Lonely. Ever watching from a distance. Unwilling to admit that he desperately wanted to shed his skin, to offer it to her. To become permanently human. But it was the one thing he would never let himself have. 

_I’ve hurt too many people, ruined too many lives._

But he _would_ let himself watch from a distance. And while he never dared to approach her, neither did he distance himself. In fact, every day, he found himself bobbing in the waters a few feet closer than the day before. And the next day, even closer still. And on it went until one day, the seal reached the point of no return. He felt firm sand and rocks beneath his belly, and his eyes locked onto hers.

oOo

You're a regular here, aren't you?" she asked, cheekily, pulling a brown paper bag from her satchel. "Seen you every day for two weeks now."

To her delight, he replied with a series of slaps and wiggles.

"I can tell it's you 'cos you have a little patch of dark fur on your back."

He barked and rolled onto his back for a moment, and then returned to his belly.

She smiled at him. "Do you like tuna? Here. I'll give you half of my sandwich."

The seal barked once, went up on his flippers, and nodded.

Rose's mouth fell open for a moment, and then she shook off the odd feeling. _He couldn't have understood me,_ she thought to herself. 

"Here you go. Not quite as fresh as the fish you're used to, but still good. My mum taught me how to make tuna salad. About the only good thing she makes." She tore the sandwich in half, and tossed it in the air. He caught it, and swallowed whole.

"Look at you! Impressing me with your tricks." Rose smiled at him as she finished her sandwich.

oOo

_You bet your sweet rear bumper I can do tricks,”_ he thought to himself with a glint in his brown eyes. _”All sorts of human tricks. Just you wait—“_ He mentally kicked himself, knowing he could not let his human side be happy. But as a seal, he was safe. So he was content to simply recline next to her on the sand and listen to her every word.

The next day, he announced his presence in the cove by powerfully breaching the waters. He performed flips, skimmed across the water on his tail, and ended his show with a belly-stinging flop that doused an unsuspecting group of puffins. 

Rose laughed as the seabirds scattered. As if taking a bow, he pushed himself up and out of the water, and bobbed his head once before sinking back to his neck, and heading for shore.

"Look at you, Mr. Seal! I'm impressed! What'd you do? Escape from a circus or something?"

He replied with vaguely negative-sounding duo-toned bark, which sounded almost like, "Uh uh!"

oOo

A few days later, Rose arrived to find her Mr. Seal. He barked a greeting to her as she made her way to her regular spot.

"Aww," she cooed. "You're here waiting for me! But what's all this stuff? Looks like someone had a few too many on the beach last night."

About a dozen glass bottles and jars of various sizes and shapes were arranged in an arc. Some contained water, others were empty. With a small stick held between his teeth, he began to tap on the bottles.

Rose furrowed her brow. Yesterday's acrobatic show had been impressive. But today. What he was doing now… she was simply astounded! She shivered as she listened to the music.

"But this isn't possible. How can this be possible?!" Her mouth fell open at the sudden recognition of the tune. “What's _Moonlight Serenade_! You're playing an honest-to-goodness song! _“Gran used to play that for me on her old record player!"_

He dropped the stick from his mouth, and nodded with fervour, and clapped his flippers. And then he smiled. A real, honest-to-goodness smile. Oh how he smiled.

And Rose had no words.

oOo

More impossible things followed: she watched him scratch a drawing in the sand of a rose; and then there were the pebbles arranged in the shape of a heart. He seemed to listen to her talk, nodding all the times when it would be appropriate for a human to offer a nod of encouragement.

One day, Mr. Seal arrived at his usual time carrying a pouch in his mouth, which he dropped at her feet with a bow.

"What's this, then?"

He barked, and nudged it closer with his nose.

"For me?"

He barked affirmatively.

At first, she hesitated, but he barked again. 

"All right then." Rose picked up the brown leather drawstring bag, and slowly loosened the ties. She peeked inside. And gasped. He barked once, quietly.

"Where did you get these?" she asked, breathily. "Are they real?"

As he had many times before, he answered in that duo-toned manner, which sounded like an affirmative reply.

Rose pulled out one of the glistening, luminescent pearls from the bag. "They're gorgeous! I don't think I've ever seen such beautiful pearls before." Rose frowned. "I have to turn these in to the police. I bet someone's looking for them. “They've gotta be worth a fortune."

The seal shook his head violently and barked louder than she had ever heard him before.

She frowned as she looked down at his worried face. He touched the bag with his nose, pushing it towards her heart.

"But I can't keep these. They're too expensive. Maybe stolen, even!" She pulled a few more from the bag and looked at them as she chewed her lip.

Again, he barked loudly and shook his head.

"I don't understand. I'm sorry." She returned the pearls to the bag, and then clutched it to her chest.

He barked once, again touching her hand with his nose. Rose dropped onto her knees without another word.

"I'm not sure what to think. How is all of this even possible? The water tricks I get. But playing the music? Writing in the sand? And now you've brought me pearls. And I'm talking to a seal. This is just mental."

The seal turned, and pulled himself into the water. He bobbed for a minute, and then swam away. Long after he disappeared into the churning waters of the cove, Rose remained, staring out towards the horizon.

oOo

Ever since that time that Tricia Delaney had found twelve year old Rose's diary and read it out loud during that excruciating sleepover, Rose had given up committing her secrets to paper. However, Rose had found other ways to vent her secrets. There's been her cat, Tiger, but then Tiger had run away. Soon after that, Rose followed the cat's lead, and ran off with Jimmy. But now, she had Mr. Seal. He'd turned out to be a very patient listener, and she’d spilled her secret thoughts to him every day for three months now, rain or shine.

"So Mr. Seal, what's new with you? I bet you've had a better day than I have. Wouldn't take much, really." Rose sighed and then collapsed onto her back, hands behind her head. "A guest snuck out without paying when I was at the front desk and of course I was chewed out for it, and then the dryer caught on fire, and then Mum called and told me that she's dating Howard the grocer. I suppose she can see whoever she wants to see, but really? Howard? He's been married like... six times or something."

His bark sounded sympathetic.

“You know, sometimes I think you understand what I’m saying.” She smiled, shaking her head. “I doubt the two of them are serious, though. I can't ever see Mum settling down again. She's been talking about Dad a lot lately. Been over twenty years since he died, and she still misses him. He wasn't perfect, but no doubt about them two loving each other the way Mum talks."

The seal and pulled himself another foot closer to her and plopped onto his belly.

“Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever find a bloke. A good bloke, that is. I don't need a man to be happy, but…” Her voice trailed off as she pressed her lips together. “I suppose it would be nice to be in love. Really truly in love.” 

She sat back up, and then picked at her fingernails. "I haven't been very good at choosing the right sort of men.” Rose shook her head as she sighed. She leaned back on her elbows, crossed her legs and looked down at the seal. "Do you have a girl? I bet you do, you handsome devil, you, and then shook her head. "You know, it's nice having someone to talk to, someone that I know won't laugh or judge me."

He lifted his head, pulling himself closer. It was as he was thinking. Hesitating. And then he let his chin rest on her knee. Rose yelped, the seal startled, and lifted his head to look into her brown eyes, now as round as saucers.

She grinned. "It's okay. Just surprised me is all. Go ahead, you can rest there. I don't mind. How come you don't smell all... manky? Shouldn't a sea creature smell fishy? You actually smell nice. Good even. Familiar.” 

Pictures flashed in her mind. A mop of brown hair. A cheeky grin. A beautiful bare man with a mole on his back. Rose shook off the memories. "Stop it!" Rose said, clenching her fists. "I'm not going to think about him." Squeezing her eyes shut, she breathed in and out a few times, slow and even.

The seal barked, the tone vaguely questioning.

”You don't wanna hear about my love life or lack of a love life."

He barked again, but this time he uttered a series of short, happy squeals.

Rose laughed. "You do? Okay then. All right. Might do me some good to get it off of my chest." She drew in a long breath of resolve. “There was this man. This beautiful man. I’ve met him twice. The first time, he sorta came to my rescue.” She began to stroke the seal’s back. He hummed and nestled his head. “You know Jimmy, my tosser boyfriend. Well, John Smith, that’s his name — he gave me the courage to walk out on Jimmy.”

The seal lifted his head, and then dropped it back into her lap.

“The second time I met him, I suppose I rescued him!” Her laugh was bright and heart-felt. “He’d lost his clothes. Totally starkers, right here on the beach.” Rose sighed. “I got him sorted with some clothes. And I thought — well for a bit there — I thought we had something. But he left.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Left me the most beautiful letter. Still have it. I keep it in my pocket.”

The seal closed his eyes, and rubbed his cheek against her hand.

“I tried to forget him. John Smith.” she breathed his name. “But I think about him all day, and I dream about him every night.”

And so she stroked his head, told him her deepest secrets, and her secret longings.

oOo

It was one of his worst nightmares. He was really, truly stuck. He'd been too preoccupied watching his Beach Blossom to notice the frayed, knotted monster creep up on him from behind. And then it was too late. He barked and struggled, and ultimately fought and lost the battle against the tattered, worn, discarded fishing net.

He was now at the mercy of the onshore winds, the current, and the tides. He stilled himself, closed his eyes, and waited for the end to come. But then, he heard her voice.

"Oh! You poor thing!"

His eyes snapped open. He was no longer being tossed about, but was still hopelessly stuck. He barked once, happy to feel the cool, wet sand under his fur, and gentle, warm fingers touching his head through the netting. He tried to move, but his attempts were useless as he strained against the rough fibres of the fishing net. He cried once.

"Oh, I'm so sorry this happened to you!" she said. "Look at this tangled mess. Stay right there, Mr. Seal. I'm gonna have to go get a knife to cut you free." She scratched his head tenderly, feeling the soft fur under her fingertips. "Of course you'll stay there, you're stuck." She smiled down at the animal.

The corners of his mouth turned up as he looked up at his saviour. He barked, nodded, and again smiled. His soulful eyes followed her every movement as she stood to her feet, and ran towards town. Knowing he was as good as safe, he let the tension leave his body.

It wasn't long before his Beach Blossom was back, armed with both a utility knife and a pair of scissors. She hummed as she did her work, careful to not to nick his skin with her sharp implements. Soon, he was free of the net. She picked up the remnants, and balled them up into a tidy wad. It was a small fishing net, or perhaps part of a larger one, and once set aside, she returned her attention to the seal.

"Hold still while I look you over. Wanna make sure you haven't got any cuts or scrapes."

His heart halted for a moment, and then raced as she skimmed her hands over his fur, and then paused, having found a scar, though it was an old wound, long since healed. 

"Looks like you've been hurt before, Mr. Seal."

He gave her a single bark of affirmation.

"I bet you’ve had lots of adventures. Seen a lot, done a lot. How long to seals live? A good long time, I think. Lots of fish, loads of mates to muck about with. I see lots of seals here in the cove."

She dropped onto her backside and hugged her knees. His mouth gaped as he stared at the sight of her tongue peeking between her teeth as she grinned.

”What's wrong, Mr. Seal? Do I have a piece of seaweed in my teeth?"

His mouth snapped shut, and he made a stuttered barking sound, like a laugh.

“You know, this friendship of ours, it's been the best thing to happen to me since, well, in a long time. Funny isn't it? Me talking to a seal. Better than a therapist. I'm even thinking about going to the pub with Maeve tonight. She has a friend she wants to introduce me to. A male friend." Rose smirked and rolled her eyes.

He made a wheezing sound, and then grunted a few times.

"You all right, Mr. Seal? Maybe you're still shook up from that bit with the net." She patted his head and he relaxed heavily into the sand.

"Thing is, I don't really want to meet anyone. Not anyone except that bloke I told you about. John. I haven't seen him once since that day, not even from a distance. It's like he just vanished." 

She looked out at the horizon. ”Sort of a strange bloke, to be honest. Naked on the beach holding a newspaper to hide his—“ Rose giggled and blushed. "But there was something really oh, I don't know, different about him. Special and brilliant."

He barked and slapped his flippers on the sand.

"But he up and left me. Disappeared. I suppose that's not very brilliant, is it?"

He grunted.

“Did I tell you he's gorgeous? We met right here. On the beach. His clothes blew away while he was skinny-dipping." Now that's weird. Or brave. Mostly weird.”

The seal rose up on his flippers, pulled away from her touch, and hurried to the water.

"I guess you're done then. See you tomorrow, Friend." Rose laughed as he disappeared under the grey waters of the cove.

oOo

"So Rose," began Maeve. "I was out for a bit of a run yesterday, and I saw you on the beach. You were talking to a seal." Her friend paused. "It is isn't this first time I've seen you talking to that seal."

Rose looked up from the stack of postcards she was addressing to past guests, lips parted slightly.

"I've even seen you petting the beast. He's a wild sea creature, Rose. He could bite you, might even have rabies or mad cow disease or something."

"Seriously? Mad cow disease, Maeve?" Rose rolled her eyes. "I really doubt that this seal has been exposed to any cows, and I have never heard of a seal having rabies.”

“Well, the ocean version of mad cow disease, then. Females seals are called cows, you know."

"My seal would never bite me," she countered. "And besides, he's a boy, not a girl."

" _Your_ seal?" Maeve raised an eyebrow, and then sputtered a laugh.

"Well, he's sorta adopted me, I think. I can't help it. He reminds me a bit of a lost puppy. He's very gentle."

"Seals aren't puppies, Rose. They've been known to jump on top of people. One tourist last year was petting a seal, and he flopped onto her and started drooling all over the poor lady," Maeve said with a grave nod. "Someone video'd it on their phone. I saw it on BBC news."

"I know it's strange, but I like talking to him. He listens to me. I swear, Maeve, sometimes I think he understands. He even—“ Rose stopped herself, and chewed her lip.

"He what?" Maeve leaned onto the registration counter, leaned forward, eyes curious and flashing.

"This is gonna sound totally mental.” Rose began fiddling with her earring. "He does tricks for me. He played music on bottles and jars filled with water.”

Maeve frowned. "You're right. That does sound mental. You sneak down to the pub today?"

"No," Rose replied through an irritated laugh. "I'm telling you, he played _Moonlight Serenade_. Believe me, I thought I was mental, too, but I'm serious. He tapped out the tune with a stick in his mouth."

"Maybe he escaped from an aquarium or something?" She screwed up her face.

"I thought that, too, Maeve!" Rose said, her voice high and somewhat screechy. "But then, he—“ She chewed her lip for a bit. "He brought me a present."

"Yeah, my roommate's cat used to do that when she was in a snit. Dead mice on the doorstep." Maeve shuddered. "So what sorta present? A rotten fish? Seaweed?"

Rose reached into her pocket and produced the little drawstring bag. She held it tightly in her hand before placing it on the counter. She stared at it, then pushed it towards her friend.

Maeve furrowed her brow. "What's in there? Nothing gross, right?"

"Go on, open it."

Maeve tugged on the little silken cords, and then gasped.

“Are these real?"

Rose nodded. "I took them to the jeweller. They're real, all right. Scottish freshwater river pearls. I thought the old man was gonna call the coppers until I told him I'd inherited them. Did you know it's illegal to get these now? The oysters or clams or whatever are a protected species. But he looked at the pearls really closely, and could tell they were old. Like really old. Probably a couple hundred years, even."

Maeve handed the bag back to Rose.

"And look at this one." The pearl that Rose pulled from the bag was significantly larger than the others. "It's sorta pinkish. But it's got these gold flecks, too. I didn't think it was a pearl, but the bloke at the jewellers said it was. Called it a Gallifreyan pearl. Said he'd never seen one in person before, only in books. It's really valuable." Rose held it between her fingers, and then cradled it, like a delicate blossom, in the palm of her hand.

"Oooooo..." Maeve breathed as she stared at it. "That'd be so pretty set in a ring. Maybe that's a seal's way of proposing," she teased. “Oh, I know! He's really a selkie, and he's in love with you. You do spend an awful lot of time down on the beach. Just make sure you don't let seven tear drops fall into the ocean," Maeve said with a firm nod.

“I have no idea what you're going on about. Crying into the ocean?" Rose snickered.

"You've never heard of the famous Orkney legend of the selkies?"

"No. Should I have?" Rose raised an eyebrow.

"Stories go way back, even to Viking days. Fishermen marry the females, and the males seduce discontented fishermen's wives while the men are out at sea."

Rose snickered. "Right," she drawled. "I'm having a secret affair with a seal. That's disgusting, Maeve, even for you."

"No, you twat! You don't fall in love with the seal! Ewww! The seal turns into a human. Something about the moon and the tides being right or whatever. And selkies are always gorgeous, and really seductive or so Granny says. They have this sorta magic sex mojo. She absolutely believes in the selkie legend."

"Yeah, and I believed in flower fairies when I was a kid, but that doesn't make them real," Rose said.

"Don't tell that to Granny. She is a believer, and get a little bit of drink into her, and she'll get really chatty. She starts telling stories about the night she — as she puts it — had _rapturous carnal relations_ with a selkie man down on the beach, under the full moon. The way Granny tells it, she and Granddad had just had a row over him flirting with some woman down at the pub. She ran outta their house down to the beach, let seven tears fall into the ocean, and from out of the water, like some Greek god, this gorgeous man walked right outta the water. Starkers. Said he lost his clothes on the beach while he was skinny dipping."

Rose's head snapped up. "What'd you say?"

"Completely barmy, right? Skinny dipping in the middle of November, and then —“ Maeve waggled her eyebrows. “…you know. Being able to _perform_.Blokes and cold water do not mix."

Rose suddenly felt her face burning as she thought back to the day John had showed up on the beach without a stitch of clothing on him. _My clothes disappeared while I was skinny dipping_ she remembered.

"You should hear my Great Aunt Violet try and get a rise outta Granny. She teases her something fierce. And Granny gets all defensive and goes on and on about his vigour and stamina and what a generous lover he was, and how he smelled of, and I quote, 'thunderstorms and honey.' Or was it rain and peppermint? Anyway, she always talks about the way he smelled." Maeve chuckled.

Rose felt a prickling sensation over her whole body. That's exactly how she'd remembered John's cologne. 

"You look a ghost just walked over your grave.”

Clearing her throat, Rose offered Maeve a shaky smile. "I'm fine. Just fine." She laughed nervously. "That — that story doesn't sound half mental."

"Well, Granny is a bit potty," said Maeve. "She likes to hold onto the old ways. We all play along. Even Grandad. It is sort of a quaint old legend. So you coming to the pub tonight, or what?"

"I'm still thinking about it."

Maeve rolled her eyes. "Well you aren't going to find a new man unless you show yourself in public, Rose."

"I'll let you know. Maybe." Rose closed her eyes, and shook the impossible thoughts of seals and magic spells and John Smith from her mind.

Maeve returned to her housekeeping duties, and Rose looked down one more time at the rare pearl. She tilted her head to the side frowned. She needed to know more about the selkie legend. She returned the pearl to the bag, pulled out her mobile, and opened the web browser.


	5. Five

“Ye glaikit hooligans! The lot of ye!" An elderly woman shook her fist at the two boys as they fled around the corner. She looked down at her groceries, which were scattered across the pavement. A tin of mushy peas rolled off of the kerb, and disappeared into the storm drain. "Good for nothing ruffians," she grumbled to herself. She let out a grunt, and then strained to bend over and pick up the mess.

“Let gowame! Let gowame!"

The woman lifted her head, hearing youthful cries from around the corner.

"Stop yer screeching, Brucie, you're the one who knocked the old lady down!"

"And you're the one who dared me to nick that bag of sweets, Billy!”

"Shut it, the both of you," said the tall, thin man with a shock of chestnut hair. He fisted the collars even more tightly as he dragged the two boys around the corner and towards the white-haired woman. "The two of you are both in the wrong. Now we can do this the easy way, or I can call the police."

"No! Please don't do that! His Da is the DS! He'll skin us alive!" pled Brucie. "We didn't mean for nothing bad to happen! We were just having a bit of fun!"

"All right then. You two need to learn some manners. First, you will apologise to the lovely lady you assaulted. Next, you'll pick up the things you knocked out of her cart. And then you will carefully re-pack her trolley. And finally, you will carry her groceries for the next month. No! Make that two months," he commanded.

“Yes, sir," they said in defeated unison.

"It seems I have found a pair of culprits, fine lady." The handsome man smiled and inclined his head at the woman before he released the boys. "Go on, say what needs to be said."

"Sorry ma'am. We weren't looking where we was going," said a ten year old boy on the left.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, too. Just like him. Won't do it again, ma'am," said the second boy, who was slightly younger.

She held out her hand. "And my jelly babies?"

Billy reached into the pocket of his hoodie, and produced a small, smashed plastic parcel of candy. He placed it on the woman's open palm.

”Sorry ma'am. Mum doesn't let us have sweets, and we saw ya coming out of the candy shop, and, well, we couldn't help ourselves."

"There's always a choice, boys. Never forget that," said the tall man, sternly. He ruffled their already messy hair.

"We were both wrong," said Billy.

"Bill's right. Sorry." Brucie looked down at his feet and shuffled one against the worn pavement.

“Apology accepted," she replied.

"Go on then, pick up her things," said the man in the brown pinstriped suit.

"And you'll be owing me twenty P for the tin of peas that went down the sewer," added the woman, pointing towards the metal grate in the street.

One of the boys started to protest, but the tall man gave him a stern look. The two boys briefly conversed, reached into their pockets, and produced the coins before placing them into the woman's outstretched hand. The boys knelt and made quick work of retrieving the groceries and packing the trolley.

"The two of you might have a bright future packing up groceries at Tesco if you apply yourselves," the man said, cheekily. "Now, fine lady, which days do you market? These two boys have volunteered to tote your groceries for two months."

"I market on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but there's no need for that. They've done what needs to be done. Just promise you will be careful, lads. And no more snatching sweeties! Save your coin, and buy your own. There are a fair number of us old people in this wee village. I coulda broken a hip if I'd fallen.”

“Yes, ma'am, we promise," they replied before they scampered away.

"Thank you for rescuing this damsel in distress," the old woman said with a twinkle in her eye.

"A fine lady such as yourself shouldn't be burdened with such a heavy load."

"It's the only exercise I get, young man. I'm not ready for the grave quite yet."

The tall man with the shock of chestnut hair tapped the wrinkled hand of the elderly woman. She relinquished her weak grip on the two-wheeled pull trolley handle. "Now, where are you headed?" he asked.

"Home. Puffin Cottage on the bluff. Aren't you embarrassed to be seen pulling my wheelie?"

"And why would I be embarrassed? It is my privilege and honour to be seen with such a lovely lady as yourself."

The elderly woman put her hand to her chest and laughed. "You flatter me, young man." For the first time, she studied her hero. "It's you," breathed the old woman, looking up at the tall man who was now pulling her purchases. "I never forget a face. I remember you. It was so many years ago. I knew what you were, you know, but I never would have thought you'd look the same as the day I met you if I weren't looking at you with these old eyes of mine. You called yourself John Smith. Ridiculous name," she said with a laugh.

He smiled. “Aye. I do remember you now, gentle lady, but I am a lot older than I look." He gave her a cheeky wink. "I am ashamed to admit it, but I don't remember your name." John offered his arm, and the gentle old woman threaded hers through, glad for the additional support.

"Mrs. Kirkness." She straightened her slightly bent frame a bit taller, and led him along the pavement towards her home. "You were the biggest mistake of my life, John Smith." She looked straight ahead, but maintained a smile as she spoke.

John winced. "Not one of my better performances then? Did I fail to please you?"

"Oh no, you were quite skilled in that regard." The old woman blushed. "I was a selfish, young, foolish wife. I hardly knew what love was, and I had constructed this picture in my head of what a marriage should be, and when reality didn't match up with the fantasy, I looked away from my husband. I turned to you."

"But you seemed so unhappy with your husband." Memories of a young woman walking the beach day after day, tears streaming down her face came flooding back. "Did I not give you a moment of happiness? One small glimmer of pleasure in an otherwise bleak existence?"

"The feeling of physical bliss fades very quickly, Mr. Smith. But the memories of my infidelity have lasted a lifetime."

John tugged his ear.

"Mr. Kirkness, my Robert, he was a good man. He was quiet, shy, to himself. And once I realised he showed me true love every single day simply by waking up every morning at four to mend the fishing nets, going out to sea whether a storm was coming or not so that we had coin in our pocket and food on the table, never raising his voice — not once — when I complained about him being gone all those long hours. I was a foolish wife who thought love only meant passionate embraces and beautiful words. It's much more than that. It's kind deeds, like what you just did for me."

John stopped walking, leaned over and kissed her powdered cheek. "Mrs. Kirkness, I am so glad we found each other today." He pressed his lips together, into a quivering smile. “And I am very, very glad that you found true love and happiness."

"John Smith, don't break any more hearts. Promise me?"

“I don't know if I can change who I am."

The woman took the cart from John's hand. "You can. I think you may already have, from what I've seen."

"What do you mean?"

"The girl you visit every day on the beach."

"What?"

"She seems a happy girl. Nothing discontented about her. And there's no ring on her finger, either. Selkies try to steal away married women, right?"

He nodded, numbly.

"I think you need to go and find your beach girl. Tell her what's in your heart."

"I don't understand. How do you know about Rose?" he asked.

"My cottage has a lovely view of the cove." She turned away, and waved her hand, farewell.

oOo

After much begging and pleading, Rose agreed to meet Maeve's friend. "He's a really, really nice guy, Rose. It's not like you're agreeing to anything permanent. He's just a lot of fun, very, very good looking, and has lots of mates, and frankly, you need to get out more. I promise you'll hit it off as friends at the very least. I'm not trying to set you up. I promise."

"All right, all right! You can stop now, I'll come with you!"

An hour later, Rose was sitting on the bar stool, sipping her drink, a rum and Coke — without the rum — listening to Maeve's friend, Jack tell of his recent trip to Kyoto. Truthfully, she was having a great time, and had barely had time to breathe between peels of laughter. If half of his stories were true, the man spent more time naked than clothed.

“And then the chicken catches up with us, and I was sure that I was in for it. But then Tosh grabs me from inside of the boat, and pulls me in, right off of the dock! Ianto guns it, and we make a break for it! And we recovered the painting from the thieves."

Rose's stomach hurt from laughing. It took a while for the group which had gathered around the magnetic black-haired, blue-eyed man to calm down. Finally, their raucous laughter subsided.

The door to the pub opened, and reflexively, Rose turned to look. It was John Smith. She gasped.

"What's wrong, Rosie?" asked Jack.

“Uh, nothing. Just see someone I know." Rose fiddled with one of her two plaits.

"You look nervous. Need me to tell him to shove off?"

"No!" she blurted. "I mean, no. He's nice. I'm just really surprised is all."

"He's a bit fit, Rose," Maeve said with a wolfish grin. "Where've you been hiding him?"

”I haven't been hiding _anyone_ , Maeve. I — he — we sorta lost track of each other is all. Oh goodness, he's coming over." Rose's hands dropped into her lap, and she began to pick at her fingernails.

"Rose, fancy seeing you here," said John with a bright grin. He pushed his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. "These friends of yours? My name is John Smith,” he introduced himself.

"Hello, I'm Jack Harkness." He pushed his hand out and shook John's firmly, and then winked.

"I'm Maeve. I work with Rose at the inn. These are my friends Kelly, Luke, Colin and Katie. How do you know Rose? I didn't think she knew anyone in town but me."

"I know people, Maeve," Rose said a bit defensively. She cleared her throat. "I've known John for a while now. He's the one who took off without saying goodbye.” Rose shot him a look. She was suddenly feeling an odd mixture of anger towards him, but protectiveness, too.

"I'm sorry, Rose. Something came up. I had leave right away. You got my note, right?"

"Note?" she asked, averting her eyes.

“You did get it,“ he stated, one eyebrow raised.

"I think the two of you need to talk. Jack, guys, let's let these two have some privacy," said Maeve.

"No, that's okay. I'm getting tired. I was about to leave anyway," said Rose. She stood from her stool, left a few coins on the bar. She slid on her coat, and wrapped her multi-coloured scarf around her neck a few times.

John followed her as she fled the pub.

"Why are you running away from me, Rose?" he asked. White puffs of his breath were visible in the chilly, night air.

Rose slowed to a stop, then turned to face him, but avoided his gaze. She wrapped her arms around her torso. "So. What have you been up to?" she asked. She had a smile on her face, but it was lifeless.

"Bobbing around, here and there." He pushed his hands into his pockets. "Why'd you run away from me just now?”

“She finally looked at him directly. "I could ask you the same thing. And yeah, I did get your note." Rose pushed her hand into the pocket of her jeans, and felt the thick rectangle of folded paper she'd been carrying around for several months now.

"I came on too strong. I felt ashamed of myself." He looked to the left, nowhere in particular.

Rose nodded and then bit her lip. "I had no way to get ahold of you. No mobile number, no address. You know how many John Smiths there are in Orkney?"

"You tried to find me?" he asked, turning his head towards her.

"Well, yeah. You may've been a bit,“ Rose blushed and half smiled, “forward. But that doesn't mean I wasn't interested in getting to know you better, you plum. Just maybe a bit slower."

John grinned shyly. "Yeah?"

"Shut up,” she replied softly, blushing.

The door flew open. "You sonofabitch! Who do you think you are, trying to pull my wife!?" A large, balding man, accompanied by two similar men, tumbled out of the pub, and stumbled in the general direction of the couple. 

John grabbed Rose's hand. "Run!"

Without thinking, Rose found her legs matching his pace as they took off towards the beach, easily outpacing the already winded trio of angry, half-drunk thugs.

"What's he going on about?" she asked as they fled.

"I honestly have no idea!" John replied. "He doesn't look familiar, could be one of a number of men I've crossed over the years."

"What?" she exclaimed.

John didn't answer, and the two didn't stop running until they were standing at the top of a cliff, overlooking the inlet.

"What do you mean, could've been a number of blokes...?" she asked. She pulled her hand from his, and her chest was heaving as she gasped for air.

Wearily, John dropped to the grass, and pulled his knees into his chest. "Rose, I'm not a nice man. I've done terrible things. Wrong things. The reason I left so suddenly that day we met on the beach, well, it was because I didn't want to hurt you, too."

She looked down at him. "I don't understand.”

“He released his arms from around his knees, and stretched out, flat. The full moon bathed his pale face in silvery light. His freckles stood out like stars sprinkled across the night sky.

Rose dropped down next to him, cross-legged.

"I don't think you'd believe me if I told you."

"Try me." She crossed her arms.

"Right now, the moon is travelling around the earth approximately 2,288 miles per hour." John looked up at the silver disc and closed his eyes. "Humans don't understand just how powerful that moon of ours is. It speaks to us in ways very few people understand."

"You're right. I have no idea what you're going on about."

"What I'm trying so ineffectively to tell you is — Rose, I'm not from here."

"Why's that important? I really don't care where you're from. I looove a Scuttish awwksent."

"Uh, don't do that." He shook his head and frowned. "What I'm trying very unsuccessfully to say is I'm not from _here_." He pointed down. "I'm not human. Strictly speaking. I'm from — out there." His vision swept out over the water, up to the sky, and then back to her.

"You're alien?" One of her dark “One of her dark eyebrows raised.

"No. I'm from the sea. I'm a selkie. Well, the last selkie, actually."

Rose closed her eyes and shook her head in disbelief. "What?" It was more than just a question. "But that's just local legend, isn't it?" she stammered.

"Nope, not a legend, and yep, I'm a selkie." John sat up, crossed his legs and offered her a small, but warm smile.

Rose studied him from head to toe, brows furrowed, unable to form words. Snd then she gasped. "What Maeve said. She — no way. No! Way!" Rose pointed at him, and then covered her mouth and began to laugh behind her hands. "You were naked on the beach! And I wanted to kiss you so, so, so much, and you — you — ran away and left that note! And then Mr. Seal showed up every day. You're Mr. Seal! You _are_ a selkie!"

"Yessiree Bob, I'm Mr. Seal." He cringed. "I am never saying that again. Hello." He wiggled his fingers.

She stopped laughing as reality began to settle in. Her gorgeous, naked, newspaper-clad John Smith was, in fact, not human. "He — hello." Rose stared at him for a long moment, but then began to fiddle with her earring. “So you’re a seal man. How does that — how does that even work?" Her voice was at least an octave higher now.

"Well, on certain nights, when the moon and the earth are in the proper position, gravitational forces-"

"No, that's not what I meant! I mean — oh, I don't know what I mean. The crazy thing is, I believe you. I _want_ to believe you." She stopped toying with her earring, dropped her hands and shrugged her shoulders.

"You do?"

"Yeah."

"Good." He nodded and then turned to look at her, giving her a big smile. "That's good."

They sat side by side for a moment, both silently looking up at the moon.

"But from what little I know about selkie men, mainly from what I could find on the internet and my friend Maeve, you aren't exactly a settling down sort of bloke." Rose chewed her lip.

He nodded, swallowing hard. "You're right. And that's why I left that day at the hotel. I knew I couldn't hurt you. Seduce you and leave. I wanted to keep you safe, Rose."

“Thank you." She frowned. "But you wanted to? At first?"

"Oh yes," he said saucily.

Rose looked away to hide the small smile that was tugging at the corners of her mouth. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she gained her composure.

"You're smiling. I see a smile," he teased.

She looked at her lap. "Am not."

"You, Rose Tyler, liked it."

"I should be furious, that's what!" She stuttered a laugh.

"But you aren't?" he asked, serious. "Why?"

"I suppose, well, because I like you. I liked you from the start. At the pub that night, when you tricked Jimmy into thinking you were a music agent. And then on the beach too. I liked you, John."

"You do understand what it means when I tell you I'm a selkie-man, don't you?! I've done terrible things, Rose. Torn families apart! Broken so many hearts, I can't even remember how many! I don't even _know_ whose husband that man was! The man back at the pub!" He paused, and ran a shaking hand through his hair. "You know what? This was a mistake. I never should have tried to find you again. I need to stay away from you." He moved to leave, but she grabbed his hand, not letting him escape.

"No! Don't go. Please don't run off again."

"I never should've come back into town. I should stay a seal forever. You really don't know me, Rose," he said, his eyes pleading with her to let him flee.

”But I think I do. I mean, I know you enough to know that you are loyal. You came every day to see me at the beach. And all of those things you did for me? The tricks, and the gifts? And you listened to me, John. Really listened. I knew you understood me. I just knew it. And no bloke has ever serenaded me before, not even Jimmy. And you did it on bottles filled with water. And he's the one who was supposed to be a musician, and you were a seal! I mean how did you even set all of that up? It must have taken you ages! And you helped me. You didn't even know me, John, but you stood up for me. I _know_ you saw the bruises on my arms. Any one of those things would be enough for me to want to know you better."

"Yeah?" he asked, looking down at his dirty trainers.

Rose looped her arm through his, and looked up at him. "Yeah." She smiled sweetly. "So you gonna let me decide whether or not I wanna get to know you better?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. 

"'Cos from where I'm sitting, it's my choice. You're stuck with me, now!”

“I guess I've been told," he said with a chuckle.

"Yep."

His face bloomed into a smile. "So you liked my tricks?" He leaned forward, and bounced on his toes.

"Yeah,” she replied. "You're very talented."

He made a happy sound in the back of his throat and grinned. "I'm glad you liked my tricks. _Moonlight Serenade_ on discarded glass bottles was my favourite, though. Now that was a hard one. Dragging all of those bottles onto the shore with my mouth. And I practiced some of those flips for days and days! Did you like the 360? I'm particularly proud of that one. And oh, those pearls? Don't lose them. They're heirlooms." He nodded, face serious. "Not that I want them back! They're for you."

"They're really, really beautiful. But it's too much, John. I don't think I can accept those pearls. I think the jeweller thought I was a thief or something when I took them into the shop. They're so valuable."

"No. Please. I want you to have them." He moved closer.

“Why? You hardly know me."

"But that's where you're wrong. I _do_ know you. I've had months to get to know you. Well, as Mr. Seal. I've learned that you are kind, and brave, and funny. You're resourceful, bright, and so, so beautiful. I've heard you talking on your phone with your Mum. Apologising for running off with Jimmy. You're working so hard to build a new life for yourself, and you have! And you're happy, content, just being yourself. You didn't let that idiot musician destroy you, Rose. You left him. You moved on."

John sprang to his feet, and with a flourish, he removed his long, brown coat. He spread it on the cold ground. He sat back down and crossed his legs in front of him. He patted the spot next to him, and Rose moved onto the coat. She sat cross-legged next to him. 

John grabbed her hand and squeezed it. He swallowed hard before continuing. "When I met you at the pub all those months ago, I had every intention of doing my selkie thing to get you to take me home, or to a hotel. Well, anywhere with a bed. Or without a bed.

Rose laughed at the comically awkward expression on his face. His face softened.

"But you didn't, did you?" She paused. "Why?”

He shrugged. "Well,” he hemmed and hawed, "Maybe I could tell you needed someone on your side, not a romantic complication. But that didn't stop me other times." John shook his head. "Honestly, I'm not sure why." He tugged on his ear.

Rose looked down at their joined hands. She withdrew her hand from his, but not to stop contact. Instead, she laced their fingers together. John smiled, and then stroked the side of her hand with his thumb.

"What about on the beach? You were doing it then, weren't you?" asked Rose, tipping her head.

With a sheepish shrug of his shoulders and twist of his face, he nodded. His voice rose at least an octave. "Yeah."

Rose fought to hide a smile by pressing her lips together. "You really didn't have to, you know. I thought — _think_ you're gorgeous." Her smile broke through.

"And you are beautiful, too. Well, considering."

She frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're human," he said with a straight face. "Seals are extremely elegant creatures, Rose. Glossy fur, graceful curves, soulful eyes. But you have soulful eyes, too. You'd make a lovely seal." He bumped his shoulder against hers. 

“First thing I noticed about you, those eyes of yours. They're the colour of sugar kelp glowing in the golden light of sunset."

Rose raised an eyebrow. "I think that's a compliment."

"Oh yes, the highest compliment."

Rose laughed. "I like you, John. You're honest. You just say what you're thinking."

"I do with you." He leaned back on his elbows and looked up at the night sky. "Haven't been this honest with anyone in a long time."

"And now you don't have to be alone. It's better with two, you know."

"I spend most of my life in the water until the moon tells me it's time to become human. I climb out, go to my cave and I peel off my skin. I come onto shore, and ruin people's lives."

"But who says you have to keep on doing that? You didn't ruin my life. We've met twice now, not counting this time, and I'm perfectly intact. See?" She grinned at him.

"I don't know if I _can_ change.”

“You just — do it. I did. I changed."

"I don't understand." John shook his head.

"All those months ago, at the pub. Remember?"

"Sure I do. You were sitting there, all ripe and ready to be seduced. So unhappy, so hurt." He frowned, recalling the moment he first set his eyes on Rose. He remembered the look on her face as Jimmy sang that song to her. How her eyes spoke of repeated betrayal, defeat, and embarrassment. "I wanted to steal you away from him right then and there. But you disappeared before I could make my way to your table." He looked up at the sky. "But then, I saw you outside. Leaning against that wall. Something just snapped in me. You needed comfort, not sex."

"See?" she nodded her head. "You didn't try and get me into bed. You made a choice, John. You chose to rescue me. That night, I thought I was stuck with Jimmy The Tosser Stone forever, but then you came along. In one night. One simple conversation. You treated me with respect. I realised that I deserved better than the likes of him. Don't you see? You made me better, John.”

He knew the words he wanted to say to her, the feelings of love and desire, but they were stuck in his throat.

“You didn't try to use your magic on me, you just talked to me. Gave me courage. You made me realise that there's more out there, that I didn't have to settle for a wanker like him. So you saved me from Jimmy, and I saved you from the fishing net. That's a pretty fair trade, don't you think?"

John swallowed hard, still holding the words back. "I suppose it is."

"Let me ask you this. Do you think you can be a one woman man? 'Cos Jimmy cheated on me all the time, and I won't let that happen to me again."

"My heart never wants to hurt you Rose. But I'm so afraid that I will. That I won't be able to help myself. I've known nothing different for almost a thousand years."

Rose's head snapped to look at him. "Really? A thousand years?" she asked, her voice high and squeaky.

"And I look pretty good for my age, don't you think?"

"You look gorgeous.” She breathed the words, and then blushed.

He smiled briefly. "But I don't know anymore if I do what I do because I'm a selkie, or because I was _told_ all those years ago I _had_ to be this way."

"Nature, or nurture, right?" she asked.

“Yes. Exactly." He sighed and closed his eyes, but then remembered the admonition he'd given to the two candy thieves. _There's always a choice._ Why had he said that? It had come so naturally. Had he ever given himself a choice? The choice to do what he knew was right? Go against his nature? Or how he'd been trained? He whispered his inner thoughts. "There's always a choice..."

"What'd you say?"

"There's always a choice, Rose!" He bounded to his feet, and jumped a few times, giddily. _"There's always a choice!"_

"Of course there is. What do you think I've been trying to tell you, you daft seal!" She bumped his thigh with her shoulder.

"I've just been too thick to see it." His eyes when wide, and he tapped his head in an _Aha!_ moment. "Oh! Oh! Oh! I've been so thick! I know what I have to do! But if I do what I think I'm about to do, there's no going back. Ever." He grinned at her, somewhat manically, his eyes flashing.

"What do you mean?" Rose asked. "I don't understand." She stood to join him.

"There is a way for me to truly change who I am. I don't know if I would trust myself to not be a selkie. To do selkie things."

She nodded. "But you want to do this _thing_? This thing you say you have to do?"

"I do. More than anything. For you." He caressed her cheek, but then withdrew his hand, the moment of tenderness dissipating. "Thing is, I'm going to change, but I'll still be me. I think. Actually, I'm not quite sure what will happen. Only known a few selkies who've done this. But I do know I'll have the same thoughts, same memories. I just won't be a selkie anymore." He stopped his manic pacing. "And I'm afraid."

”If you really want to change, then I'm here for you. You don't have to be afraid." Rose pulled him into a hug, buried her face in his neck, squeezed her eyes shut, and breathed in his scent.

"I've never felt about someone the way I feel about you, Rose. I can't be who I was anymore, not if I want to be with you because — I love you."

"You do?" she asked, voice quiet. She pulled away, but kept her hands on his arms.

“I do! I love you! I L-O-V-E Y-O-U! Blimey! It feels good to say that!" He grinned at her, and pulled her back into a tight embrace. He released her, but still held her hands. "I understand if you don't love me. Yet." He winked saucily. "I've had more time, you know. As Mr. Seal. Spending all that time with you on the beach. Hearing your secrets. You seem to fancy a certain foxy bloke with really great hair, Rose Tyler."

"You're not supposed to tell my secrets." She laughed and blushed. "I told you so many things. I'm so embarrassed."

He waggled his eyebrows. "You love dark chocolate and favour vinegar on your chips. You think _Eastenders_ is silly, but watch it because your Mum loves it, and she likes to discuss it with you. You had a red bicycle when you were nine, your got your first kiss was when you were eleven at a school dance, and I love you, my sweet pink and yellow Beach Blossom." He grinned at her, his eyes sparkling in the moonlight.

She placed her hands on her burning, pink cheeks. "I believe you. And I want to love you too, but I think I need some time to get to know you." She smiled up at him. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

“We're you doing your _thing_ at the hotel? 'Cos I really, really wanted to kiss you. Well, more than just kiss you actually.”

“He grinned, slightly smug. "I was, for a while, but then I stopped. I just knew I couldn't do that to you."

"I thought I heard music in my head. That was you, wasn't it?"

"Aye. That was me singing to you. Calling to you."

”It's beautiful, the singing."

"Not just anyone can hear my singing. Most just feel the physical pull." His voice rumbled low in his throat, and he moved closer to her. Their hands remained clasped.

"Oh, I felt it," she whispered. Looking at his lips, she leaned closer. "But you can turn it off now, John."

"I'm not doing anything, Rose Tyler," he whispered into her ear. "Haven't used any of my _special talents_ since I left the hotel that day."

"What makes you think you even have to use that mojo on women?" Rose moved a bit closer, and caressed his cheek. "Just you being you is enough for me. I make my own decisions, and right now, I'm deciding that I like you, bloke with a past and all. And right now, I want to kiss you here, under the moonlight. You okay with that?"

He hummed his yes. “Oh yes. I’m extremely okay with that.”

“Good." Rose closed her eyes and kissed him, softly and slowly, resting her hands on his chest. When she pulled away, she looked up into his sparkling eyes. "See? You never really needed to do your magic selfie thing on me. I was already impressed when I met you the first time."

He waggled his eyebrows. "You liked me. You were looking."

Rose rolled her eyes and pulled back slightly. "Were you trying to seduce me, that day on the beach? When you were naked?"

“Well,I really did lose my clothing," he admitted with a chuckle. “But, yeah,” he squeaked.

“I kept blurting out what I was thinking.”

“Yep!”

Rose laughed along with him, and then rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm so glad you lost your clothes."

"So am I." John jumped to his feet, and extended his hand to Rose, wiggling his fingers. "Come on then. Let's get started on getting to know each other properly."

"I am not going to jump into bed with you, John Smith," she said, affronted.

"Oh no, no, no! That's not what I meant at all! I thought we could go grab a bite to eat! Go on a proper date!"

"Oh," she said, frowning a bit.

“You seem disappointed," he said, voice dark and husky.

She laughed. "You know what sounds good? Chips. I want chips."

oOo

_The Next Morning_

_"I'll be right back._ Stay right here." John released Rose's hand, and ran to the edge of the cliff, disappearing over the edge.

"Hey! What are you doing! You'll kill yourself, John! John?" She ran to the edge and peered over, her stomach in her throat at the sight of the height.

"I've done this a million times," he hollered from about ten feet below and then continued his descent.

Rose watched as he disappeared into a small cave, halfway down the rocky face of the cliff. He reappeared quickly, and ascended quickly with something that looked like a coat in his hand. 

"This is for you, Rose," he said, catching his breath.

Rose shrieked. "What's that?!"

"It's my seal skin. I'm surrendering it to you." He knelt down on one knee, and held up the pelt.

Hesitantly, Rose took it. "What am I supposed to do with it?"

"Hide it, burn it, just keep it away from me."

"But — but — you won't be you anymore if I destroy it. I can't do that to you! I trust you! You aren't going to hurt me, John. You proved that last night. You held me all night. Just held me. It was the best sleep I've ever had."

"It's yours Rose. Do with it what you want. I don't want it. I don't want to be that man anymore."

Rose clutched it tightly to her chest, and began stroking it. "I just can't destroy it, John. It's part of you. I'll hide it, okay?"

"Brilliant!"

oOo

_A Few Years Later_

John hefted his young son up and over his head, and onto his shoulders. The toddler giggled as his father bounced him a few times. 

“Look, Jamie! Seals!” John walked closer to the water's edge, but dodged the gentle waves rolling onto the pebbled and sandy shore.

"Tell them to come here, Daddy!"

John complied, and soon three seals broke away from the group sunning on a large rock in the bay. They came to shore, barked and then nuzzled both John and Rose's legs.

"What are they saying?" asked Rose.

"I don't know that you deserve to know. After what you did to me this morning. Attacking me like that while I was sleeping." John winked at Rose.

She blushed, biting her lip at the memory. "You were sleep-singing again, Mr. Seal. I couldn't help myself."

”A selkie man can't be responsible for the things he does in his dreams, now can he, Rose Tyler?" John waggled his eyebrows.

"Do you see me complaining?" She kissed him soundly.

"Ewwwww! Kissing!" Jamie covered his face with his chubby hands, but peeked through the gaps between fingers.

They broke the kiss, nuzzled their noses, and returned their attention to the world around them. "Should I tell Mummy what the seals are saying, Jamie-Boy?”

“Tell her Daddy. They want you to tell her!"

"Oh, all right." John dramatically drew out the word, making a show of being forced to translate. "They want you to know that _Barkybarkbark_ is expecting her first pup, and that _Barkbarkbarkygrunt_ appreciated the tuna cake you left on the beach for him. He's feeling much better now, and his flipper is healing nicely."

"Tell them I'm happy for, erm, _Barkybarky_ ," said Rose, stumbling over the unpronounceable seal name.

John barked the message, and the three seals barked cheerfully, and then dragged themselves back into the water.

"Bye bye, seals, bye bye!" Jamie waved as their three marine friends returned to the rocky outcropping. He barked to himself a few times in a sing-song fashion, his attention drawn to the animals and sea birds chattering away.

"John, there's something I've been meaning to ask you about." Rose fiddled with her wedding ring. The Gallifreyan pearl glowed in the sunlight.

"What is it, Beach Blossom?" John linked his hand with hers, his other hand keeping a firm grip on his son's leg.

She hesitated for a moment, but then blurted her question. “Do you miss the ocean? Being a seal? You've been coming down here with me a lot recently, and-"

"Sure, I miss the ocean. There's nothing like the feeling of jetting through the water, breaching the surface, and then crashing back down with a splash, scaring the birds." He grinned at her. "But do I miss being a selkie? That's what you're really asking, right?" He raised a single eyebrow.

She chewed her lip, and then nodded, almost imperceptibly. "When I'm _gone_ , will you put your skin back on? Go back out there?" She looked out over the water.

"No." He shook his head. "This is my life now. The only life I want. Living with you. Growing old with you. You know what I found the other day? A grey hair! Imagine that, Rose! A grey hair! Isn't that brilliant? I'm aging! The same as you!"

Rose's chest heaved and fell a few times as she breathed in and out deeply, studying him. "I really don't have to worry, do I? That you're going to leave me someday?"

"You still have doubts? I thought those were gone, love." He squeezed her hand.

"Not doubts. Just — I want you to be happy. I don't want to tie you down. So, I brought you something." Rose released his hand, and slid her rucksack off of her back. She handed it to her husband. "Here. I want you to have this back."

John knelt down, and Jamie hopped off of his perch from John's shoulders, and headed to explore a nearby tidal pool. "My skin?"

"Yeah. I thought you might, you know, might want to try it on. It's been a long time, and I thought you might be missing the water."

John stood, holding the rucksack in his fist. He shook his head. "No. I gave this to you, my love. My Beach Blossom. This is yours. I surrendered it to you. I gave myself to you wholly."

She batted at a burning tear in one of her eyes. "I feel so selfish. It's like I am holding you hostage. I love you. All of you, and it's like I'm holding you by this chain, that I've got you by the collar or something. And the other day, I heard you singing, but it wasn't your usual sexy, seduction song. It sounded _sad_."

"You heard that?" He raised an eyebrow, and then let out a breath didn't know he was holding. "That, my love, was a completely different song. You may have thought it sounded sad, but it was actually the opposite. I was singing to our daughter." He looked down at the discreet swell of Rose's belly. "It was a selkie lullaby.”

She rubbed her belly, and then laughed through tears. "Stupid human pregnancy hormones. Got me imagining all sorts of things."

"Rose, you never, ever, never have to worry about me wanting to leave. Ever. I'm happier than I have ever been. Ever. When I gave you my skin, I left my selkie life behind. I chose to become human. To live a normal human life. With a wife, and a house, and a mortgage, and a job, and children. All of it. And I have never once regretted it. Ever."

She threw herself into his arms, and hugged him, burying her face in the crook of his neck. He still smelled of thunderstorms and honey, but there was also the smell of human sweat and the lingering scent of his very manly shower gel. "I'm so glad," she whispered, looking up into his deep brown eyes.

"You still insisting on giving that ratty old skin back to me?" he asked quietly into her hair.

Rose swallowed hard. "If you want it, yeah."

"No take-backs! Right?" He had a glint in his eyes.

"No."

He released Rose from his embrace, and pulled his brown sealskin from the rucksack. He shook it out with a snap, looked at it and shuddered. "This is a bit gross, isn't it?"

Rose fiddled with her earring. "I wasn't half creeped out when you gave it to me."

"You trust me?"

Rose squared her shoulders and nodded firmly. "Yeah. Of course. Always."

He grinned at her. "Come with me, then. Son, we're going to walk up the bluff, come along." He shoved the skin back into the bag, without care.

Soon the family was standing on the bluff where he first told Rose the truth of who he was.

"Right down there, just in that little cave, is where I used to hide my skin when I wanted to be human." He looked over the edge of the bluff. "I used to keep all of my clothing there. I'd climb up this cliff, and go into town looking for, well — ” He looked down at his son and cleared his throat. "Looking for fun."

Rose raised an eyebrow. "And now you want to do what?"

"I want you to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I am committed to you, and only you. So here goes nothing," he shouted, rather manically. He stuffed the skin back into the rucksack and hurled it as hard as he could. It hit the water with a satisfying slap, and was soon taken under by the deep, dark waters of the Atlantic. 

"There. I made a choice, just like you did right here on this cliff. You chose to want to know me. That night I chose to be human for the rest of my life. Should have thrown it over the cliff that night."

"Does that me you won't be able to, you know, sing anymore?" Rose asked. She moved closer to her husband, and ran her fingertip down a sideburn.

"I don't know. I guess we will have to test that out." He winked at her. "Not that I think there will be a problem either way. You are a highly skilled seductress in your own right, Rose Tyler. More than I _ever_ was."

Rose smiled up at her husband, and held onto Jamie's hand tightly. "Not that you need to sing to me, John Smith, but I do rather like it." Almost immediately, Rose felt her toes tingling, and the blood began to rush in her ears. “You’re doing your thing.”

“Yep. Still got it!”

“I think you'd better stop doing your thing. There's a child present, and, oh!” Her eyes went wide. "You are so gonna get it when we get home, Mr. Seal!" She blushed fiercely.

"What's wrong, Mummy. You have a funny look on your face." Jamie first looked at his mother, who was staring at his father. He then looked at his father, who had a devilish smile on his face. 

"Daddy, why are mummy's ears so red?"

"When you're older son, we will have a very special talk. Until then, all you need to know is that Mummy and Daddy love each other very, very much."

" _Very_ much!" Rose smiled, her tongue caught between her teeth.

_The end._


End file.
